


Chocolate's A Bitch

by CalicoPudding



Category: Death Note
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Bulimia, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Eating Disorders, Flashbacks, Fluff, M/M, Mello has a sister, Minor Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Self-Worth Issues, Swearing, Therapy, Wammy's Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 68,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalicoPudding/pseuds/CalicoPudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was an old habit, one that didn't bare much in mind where health was concerned. And besides, in a world of killer notebooks and gods of death, it's really not such a big deal. Arriving in London had little impact on his habit, but the introduction of an odd little red head certainly did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, this was supposed to be up a lot sooner, but hey, school is terrible. My day is pretty clear though so I'm gonna try to get as many chapters up today as possible. The first few are gonna be pretty short but they get longer after that, you have my word.
> 
> On a slightly more serious note, there will be a number of upsetting themes in the chapters to come, as well as an abundance of swearing because in my mind, Mello swears a lot, and Matt swears when he gets angry and/or emotional. So, just a heads up.

Matt opened his eyes as soon as Mello shut the door. Carefully, the red head got out of bed and followed him.

His roommate and best friend of four months had a bad habit of disappearing at night, and periodically throughout the day, usually around meal times. Matt had his own theories, some that he didn't like, but he didn't want to say anything until he was absolutely sure. Outright accusing Mello could end horribly and Matt was not all that eager to wreck a friendship.

Mello had only recently arrived at Wammy's House and both boys had been surprised when they'd started getting along. Matt because no one really ever noticed him, Mello because he found it hard to really like anyone enough to spend his days with.

Matt entered the hallway just in time to see Mello's bright blond head disappear around the corner. By the time he'd caught up though, Mello was nowhere to be found.

"Damn it," he whispered.

Matt began to make his way back to their shared room, pausing a moment to look at Mello's hastily vacated bed before falling into his own, trying to squash his worries down with the pillow. It wasn't working well. Matt wasn't the type to worry, he let things happen, didn't get involved. But this was something different, for whatever reason, it was different. And Matt was worried.

The following morning, Matt, who was by no means a morning person, was woken by a rough shaking of his shoulders. Mello seemed to rise with the sun on most days, how he did that, Matt wasn't sure.

"Matt, get your lazy bones out of bed!"

When Matt didn't get up, Mello threw a shoe at him.

"Come on, we're gonna miss breakfast!" Mello eventually managed to drag him, zebra pajamas and all, out of bed and down to the meal hall. He dropped him in a chair and propped him at a table.

Mello always ate before showering and Matt had timed him once. The boy took all of twenty five minutes, and that was just without doing his hair; which tacked on an extra ten.

Matt watched as Mello dove into a breakfast three times the size it should be. He didn't quite understand where Mello was putting all that food. A Lot of the older kids at Wammy's House made fun of him because he looked rather feminine. But Mello really was pretty small, never putting on weight, and it made Matt a little jealous.

Mello was done before Matt was half way through and he ran off, calling over his shoulder that he'd see Matt in Math class.

Matt took his time with his food, not really worrying about the time because even if he was number two now, it still allowed him to walk into class a few minutes late.

Besides, he didn't want to interrupt Mello's all important shower time.

He didn't bother returning to their room to change his clothes, he was comfortable as he was and it wasn't like there was a dress code in place.

The classes were small and he was often grouped with Linda and the other top five kids. Matt had been number one until Mello arrived and moved him down to two, but he'd not been bothered by it. Being number two wasn't as hard as being number one so Matt had a bit more wiggle room since.

"Good morning, Matt!" Linda said as he sat down.

Linda was well liked at Wammy's, she was nice, even to some of the stranger kids. She was a morning person and drew pictures for anyone if they were sick or sad. Her talent in the art field was actually quite impressive and it was no secret that she didn't  _really_ want to be a detective, but she was smart so that was all that mattered.

"Morning, Linda."

"Is Mello not with you?"

"Nah, he'll be here when he's done showering."

Linda nodded and handed him a copy of the notes he'd missed in the minutes he'd been late.

Mello arrived a bit later, slipping into a seat beside Matt while the teacher's back was turned.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always liked the idea that Mello had an older sister, he just kinda seemed the type, so I made him a sister. Just an FYI, this story is set up for Twenty Nine chapters, so you're in for a ride
> 
> Warning: Implications of forced vomiting

"Mika?"

Four year old Mihael stared at his big sister with concern. It was two in the morning, what was she doing up? She had a recital in the afternoon at school, she needed her sleep.

"Mihael," Mika looked up, startled, like she hadn't expected to see anyone, let alone her little brother.

"Are you sick?" he asked quietly, taking another step into the bathroom. Mika had been vomiting, she usually only did that when she was sick.

Mika sighed and flushed the toilet before moving to the sink to clean herself up. The faucet squeaked lightly as she moved it, turning it by pushing it an angle with her wrist. She scrubbed her hands red and rinsed out her mouth about four times. A small washcloth sat in the corner of the counter and she got it damp before rubbing it along her neck and chin. She fumbled for her toothbrush and emptied the rest of the toothpaste onto it, attacking her gums and teeth with enough force to make her spit blood.

A while ago, Mika had promised herself that she wouldn't lie to her scarily intelligent little brother. Mihael would have figured it out at some point anyways. He was a prodigy after all.

"No sweetie," she said, rinsing off her toothbrush and drying her mouth.

"Then what's wrong?"

Mika picked him up and gave him a quick kiss before staring hard, searching his eyes for something. She must have found it because she took a little breath.

"I'm not sick exactly, I'm purging," she said slowly, hoping that Mihael wouldn't know the word yet. The boy read the dictionary every day but she didn't think he was that far along yet.

"Purging?" Mihael ran the word through his memories, trying to call up a definition.

"Mm-hmm, getting rid of all the nasty stuff inside."

Mihael looked confused. He assumed his sister was referring to food, but that didn't make any sense. Food wasn't bad; he liked food, especially when his father made it. His mother wasn't the best cook but his father could make nearly anything taste good.

Mika set her brother on his bed, tucking him in and giving him another kiss before flipping off the light.

"Mama doesn't want chubby kids, Mihael, I'm not quite thin enough for her so I've got to get rid of all the extra."

Then Mika left.

Mihael thought back to how he found his sister, and then to his doctor visits, how he would gag when a tongue depressor was put in his mouth. He lifted up his shirt and poked his stomach, watching his finger dip slightly as he pressed down on the skin. With a sigh, he rolled over and tried to sleep.

* * *

Mello splashed some water on his face and rinsed out his mouth, grimacing at the residual stomach acid that clung to his taste buds. He wet his hand and ran it along his neck, baring his skin to the mirror to see if he'd missed anything. Drying his face with his shirt, he thought back to Mika, how their mother would sometimes poke her stomach or sides. A wet cough tickled at his throat and he nearly choked trying to force it down. When it passed, he cast more look to the mirror, scowling at his reflection.

He turned off the lights and shut the door.

The first floor washrooms were away from all the bedrooms so he didn't have to worry about waking up any of the other kids, especially Matt.

He knew that Matt saw him get up that night, a few weeks ago. It hadn't happened again but Mello knew he had to be more careful, keeping secrets in general was hard enough. Keep secrets in an orphanage full of geniuses even more so. But keeping secrets from Matt? The scrawny kid who was, quite literally, his first and only friend?

Mello was having a much harder time with that than he'd anticipated.

Climbing the steps, he froze as one of them squeaked. The still seemed heavy, a foreboding sense that didn't sit well with the boy. There weren't really rules against being out at night but it was expected that they would be in bed, and not getting into trouble. He'd have to come up with an explanation as to why he was downstairs.

When no one came to haul him off, Mello continued on.

Quietly, he opened the door to their shared dorm and only barely stopped himself from jumping. Matt was awake, goggles on despite the dim lighting of the room, the glow from his GameBoy illuminated his face in blue.

"What are you doing up?" Mello asked instinctually, not thinking that the question could be interpreted as conspicuous. Or that it would be turned on him.

He and Matt were friends, but Matt had proved to be a more submissive personality. Maybe submissive wasn't the right word, but he went along with things, he didn't actively make an effort to stick his nose into others' business. Mello was an Alpha personality, and he was a loner by nature, but he really didn't want to lose his friend.

"I could ask you the same thing," Matt said, pausing his game to look up at Mello.

His goggles obscured his eyes, Mello couldn't get a read on him. Did he know? Did he suspect? Was he just curious about Mello's whereabouts? Maybe he just thought he was out meeting someone, or causing trouble.

"It's none of your business," Mello spat.

Matt fixed him with a hard stare and neither of them moved. That still Mello felt on the steps was back, pulling him down like there was concrete in his veins.

Finally, Matt shook his head, nearly ripping his goggles off his head. He hung them on his bed post and climbed under covers, leaving Mello standing in the doorway.

Mello wanted to apologize, something he'd never done. He wanted to backtrack, defend himself. Anything to make Matt not mad at him.

But he couldn't, so he just laid down in his bed and tried to sleep.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so you may or may not be wondering about the fact that Mello is implied to be bulimic despite being like, ten. This was pointed out the first time I posted this story so I would like to clarify before we go further. Yes, Mello is ten, eleven later in this chapter, but he was exposed at a very young age and he is also a genius. Now, I am in no way encouraging bulimia in children but in this story, I tend to think more of their, Mello and Matt and Near, mental age rather than their physical, because of the fact that their mentality would be a few years maturer than they actually are. So, when i first drafted this story, I was writing under the thought of Mello's mental age rather than his physical. If you've still got questions or anything, feel free to ask.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way, the story is going to start picking up and the chapters should be doubling in length pretty soon. Also, Linda is included in this chapter and she'll be making appearances throughout because I want her to. Near is getting introduced here but it's more in passing than anything else, he'll show up again later as well.
> 
> Warning: Mentions and implications of bulimia

"You seen Matt?"

Linda shook her head, pig tails whipping about, one of them hit her in the face but she didn't seem to notice.

"I heard you two had a fight, are you doing okay?" she asked carefully. She knew that Mello had a temper, but she also knew that something had happened when Matt came to breakfast alone a few days ago.

"Yeah, I'm perfect," Mello growled.

Linda sighed and put her hands up, walking backwards a few steps before spinning on her heel and leaving Mello to himself in the middle of the hallway.

Mello kicked the wall, momentarily forgetting that he wasn't wearing any shoes. Swearing softly, he shook out his foot and hurried down the other end of the hall.

He and Matt had been avoiding each other like the plague since Mello snapped at him. Sure, it had only been a few days but he'd had never had a friend like Matt before and he wanted him back. Mello had already checked out the other boy's usual hideouts; the east gate, the kitchen, and the unused hallway in the north side of Wammy's House, but nothing.

"Hey, blondie."

Mello spun around, ready to punch someone, only to find himself staring up at a much larger boy.

He chose to scowl instead.

"Woah, hey, cool it, I heard you were looking for your roomie," the older boy didn't seem like so much of a threat anymore, quite the opposite really but Mello kept his scowl in place.

"What's it to you?"

"I overhead that some red head got beat up in the library, figured it might be our infamous number two."

Mello took off, rushing past the bigger boy and running like the hounds of hell were at his heels. It took nearly two and a half minutes to find Matt. He was slumped against a bookshelf, tucked into himself. Mello didn't see, or smell, any blood. Small victories, he supposed.

"What the hell happened?"

Matt looked up with a lazy grin on his face, goggles pushed up onto his forehead to keep his fringe out of his eyes.

"I pissed off a kid, he decided it'd be a good idea to pound a little nine year old."

"Are you okay?" Mello asked dumbly.

"I just said I got beat up, you idiot, do I look okay?"

And he really didn't.

There was a bruise forming on his jaw, his bottom lip looked particularly nasty, and judging by the way he was breathing, Mello would guess that they paid close attention to his torso.

He had seen worse though, much worse, so he supposed Matt would be okay.

"Come on."

Mello, being Mello, pulled the red head to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist. Matt scrabbled to grab onto Mello's shoulder.

"Little warning," he wheezed.

Matt kept quiet as Mello all but dragged him back to their room. He gasped in pain when Mello dumped him onto his bed and was about to tell him off for the rough handling when he saw the blonde's face.

"What?" he asked, waiting for Mello to explain himself.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "that I snapped, I mean."

A grin appeared on Matt's bruised face, he winced as the cut on his lip reopened.

"Well, look at this, the great Mello, the number one, saying sorry to Wammy's lowly second place."

"Well, Wammy's lowly second place just got beat up so I figured I'd brighten his day."

"With your apology?"

"You're the only one who's reading it, so shut it."

Mello climbed onto his own bed and grabbed a text book to hide his face in. After a few more minutes, he cleared his throat.

"Still friends, right?"

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

Mello's nightly excursions kept up for another year, increasing with the arrival of younger boy named Near, who quickly bumped Mello down to second rank, pushing Matt into third by default. It made Mello more irritable, angrier, Matt would say explosive. Eventually, even Roger took note of Mello's jump in volatile behavior. He gave him more outdoor time so he could run off his frustration.

Matt stopped thinking so much about the grave importance of Mello's nights and focused more on keeping Mello, and himself, safe and out of trouble during the day.

But one day, Mello fainted.

Mello never fainted.

Hell, he hardly ever got sick.

The worst Matt had seen him was extremely tired, tired enough to sleep for fourteen hours, sure, but never enough to just collapse.

And it gave Matt a moment to really take a look at his friend.

Mello had always been pale, always been thin, for as long as Matt had known him, but he looked sick. Matt could see the blue vines that ran beneath his thin skin. All in all, Mello looked like death.

"Mells?" he called quietly.

Nothing.

Panicked, he grabbed Mello's wrist and checked for a pulse before moving to his neck, and then placing an ear to his chest. There was a steady beat but it was slow. He clapped Mello's cheek, trying to get the boy to wake up. He stirred slightly, scrunching up his nose and grimacing but he didn't wake up completely.

Matt ran for Roger, hurriedly shouting that something was wrong with Mello and that they needed to take him to a hospital.

Within the hour, Mello was admitted to the pediatric ward and Matt waited in the hallway while Roger talked with a nurse. He strained to hear, picking up words that he strung together in his head.

The nurse said that Mello needed professional help. Mello was too thin. His organs were weak. He was broken.

Matt didn't understand why though. Mello was strong, he ate a lot, lots more than he should but he always worked off the excess by running around and playing various sports with the other kids. He was skinny, sure, but some kids were just born skinny, Mello had to have some sort of super-fast metabolism or something, Matt reasoned.

No matter what, the doctors had to be wrong. They had to be.

But then, Matt heard it, when the nurse thought he wasn't listening and whispered it to Roger.

Bulimia.

Matt knew what it was, and Mello's disappearances made more sense.

But Mello was only eleven, and even if he was puking every night, there was no way it would have gotten to the point where his stomach had gotten that messed up. That only happened after years of vomiting…right? Of course, maybe his stomach wasn't that bad, maybe it was a bad dizzy spell. Yeah, Mello's body would be exhausted; running on less than fumes and it gave out.

Matt waited, refused to leave actually, until they were allowed to take Mello back. The nurse gave Roger a list of child psychologists, and a dietary planner. He told Roger that it was highly irregular. He said that Mello wasn't in danger of death at the moment, but he needed to eat and he needed to keep the weight on.

Matt stuck close by his friend as they left the hospital, afraid to touch him in case Mello would yell at him about how he wasn't weak and that Matt should worry about himself.

On the way back, Mello never said a word.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is chapter four. Oh, I can't remember if I ever explicitly stated that this was going to be a Mello/Matt story(though I guess you all can see it in the tags). So, if I haven't before, I'm doing so now, it's kind of a slow build though, and I'm super emotionally stunted, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it
> 
> Warnings: Bulimia

"I don't want it," he mumbled, turning back to his book.

"Just eat it, Mells, you can run it off later if you absolutely have to."

Matt had been attached to Mello at the hip since he came back from the hospital the week previous. Mello's meal plan had little to no wiggle room and he was told that he wouldn't be allowed to participate in classes unless he followed it. Matt had been given his own set of instructions.

Do not let Mello out of your sight for too long.

Do not let Mello leave the room at night.

Do not let Mello exercise excessively.

Try to talk some sense into the boy.

Like that was ever easy.

Trying to get Mello to listen to him was the same as talking to a brick wall. Matt probably had a better chance of getting the wall to follow directions. So he'd racked his brain devising a plan that wasn't really much of a plan. He knew that Mello kept trying to sneak out at night, he stopped him each time, but Matt had figured something out.

Mello liked chocolate, but he only ate it on occasion and not once in the couple of months before his collapse. After some basic food study, Matt set out to change that.

Cautiously, Mello took the bar and tore off the wrapper. He snapped off a piece and wedged it between his lips so he could continue studying. Matt leaned back in his chair and pulled out his GameBoy. He was number three now, but when it came to Mello, Matt fancied himself the number one expert.

* * *

Mello knew Matt would probably catch him, and report it to Roger. But he didn't care. He had to get it out, he couldn't stand it.

He waited until Matt's breathing had evened out before carefully slipping out of bed. It wasn't until he opened the door that the other boy stirred. Stirred, but didn't wake up. He heaved a quiet sigh of relief before rushing down to the first floor bathroom. He threw open the door and rushed into a stall, shaky fingers turning the lock.

Mello tried not to think of Matt as he knelt down. Matt would be so disappointed, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stop it. The doctors thought otherwise, though if it weren't for Roger he would have been sent off to rehab. If he was to be grateful to the old man for anything, it would be for that.

The tile was cold, he could feel it sending painful spikes up his legs. He slipped off his shirt and tugged the rubber band from his wrist so he could tie up his hair. Mello had never much liked this part.

Mika hadn't either.

* * *

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

Mika looked down at him. The two were in Mika's room, curled up on the window seat, reading. Mello sat in her lap.

"Does what hurt?" she asked, feigning innocence in hopes that Mello would drop it. But he didn't, fixing her with a hard look and stubbornly closing the book so his sister couldn't use it as a cop out.

Mika sighed and then bit her lip.

"Not really, the worst part is when you're about to start, and you're just sort of kneeling there. There are little bits of yourself that are telling you that you don't have to do it and then there are other parts telling you that you don't have a choice. And you just sort of sit there for a minute and-" she faded out and Mello nodded, giving her a hug.

"Okay, I understand," he said quietly, opening the book again.

Mika just kissed his forehead and resumed reading.

* * *

Confusion bubbled in Mello's mind.

What was going on?

He pressed down further, eyes screwed shut as the salty tears that always came threatened to drip down his face. Nothing was coming up, only dark tinged saliva. He nearly choked removing his fingers and he quickly wiped them off with a piece of toilet paper.

Had Matt known? Had he given him the chocolate knowing that he wouldn't have been able to throw it up? How would he have known that anyhow? That wasn't information you just stumbled across. Mello was always careful of the stuff. He loved the taste but he knew how hard it was to get back out so he never ate too much. How much had Matt given him?

Mello ran a quick check through his head, trying to remember just how much chocolate Matt had plied him with. He'd been studying for the majority of the day and the chocolate just seemed to never run out. He tried to remember how many pieces he'd eaten and came up with a rough estimate of six bars in total.

He blanched.

Not only did he have three meals in his stomach, but six chocolate bars to, preventing anything from coming up.

"No," he whispered, "I can't believe it. No."

Against his will, hot tears poured down his cheeks. His breath sped up as panic coursed through his body. What would he do now?

The door creaked open and Mello scrambled up, yanking his shirt over his head and scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand. He peeked out of the stall and his heart stopped.

Matt stood there; his left pant leg was scrunched up to his knee as if from a fitful sleep, the seams all twisted about. But he looked as if he'd been up for hours, not just awakening form slumber.

"M-Matt," Mello rasped, because what else could he say?

"Come on, Mells, let's get you cleaned up and back to bed."

He took a step forward, holding out a hand. Mello met his gaze, searching for something in those eyes. Anything, disgust, anger, sadness, hell, he'd even take pity.

But there was nothing but fatigue and warmth there.

Mello was confused.

"Matt, I-"

"Wash your face Mells, your eyes are a little red. I'll wait until you're done."

But Mello didn't move.

Matt sighed and moved closer, helping Mello over to the sink. He turned on the faucet and put some soap in Mello's hands, putting them under the running water, and carefully getting them clean. When he was satisfied, he wet his own hand, gently rubbing the water into Mello's face, cleaning away the tears. The paper towel dispenser was empty so Mello dried his hands on his pants and Matt used his sleeve to pat Mello's face dry. He interlaced their hands and lead Mello from the washroom.

Not a word was said between them as they returned to their shared room. Matt had to gently push Mello onto his bed before laying him down, tugging the covers up to chin how he knew the other boy liked them. Matt gave his friend a quiet look, patting his head before returning to the comfort of his own bed.

He silently counted the seconds until Mello got up, shuffled over, and none to gently shoved Matt a few inches over. Matt didn't say anything though, Mello had done worse. The blond climbed in under the blanket, leaving a few breaths of space between them. Matt rolled over to face him and found Mello's eyes alight, staring hard.

"Matt?" Mello called quietly after a minute.

"Yes, Mells?"

"I hate you," the whisper was almost inaudible.

Matt just grinned cheekily and reached over to grab Mello's hand.

"Yeah, I hate you to."


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so Mello's lovely therapist will be making an appearance next chapter, this one is a bit of a filler

Matt woke the next morning to find Mello still beside him, hair mused, sticking up in some parts, clinging to his face in others. He just grinned and shoved him off the bed.

The blond jolted awake, swearing. Mello had a vocabulary that eclipsed any eleven year old's. Matt still had no idea where he'd gotten such a foul mouth. He turned to Matt scowling, though there wasn't any real power behind it. Matt knew that Mello wouldn't want to talk about what happened the night before, so he just chuckled and got out of bed.

By the time they were both dressed, there was a knock at the door.

"I've got it," Matt said with an exasperated huff as Mello glowered at the wall.

Roger stood there, looking like he'd much rather be back in his office with his bug books. Matt could venture a guess as to the nature of the visit, they'd talked about it. But he knew that Mello would most likely hate him for it. He was willing to take the chance though. Mello caught sight of Roger and glared, rolling himself up in the blanket like a burrito, attempting childish stubbornness. Matt didn't think the look suited him.

Roger bent a little lower so Matt could hear him without having to worry about Mello eavesdropping.

"Bring him to the third office on the first floor, after class," he said stiffly, before turning on his heel and walking off down the hallway.

"What did he want?" Mello asked, worming out of his blanket and fixing his hair.

"Um well, you're going to have a visitor, uh, after classes," Matt said, pulling on his goggles and refusing to meet Mello's gaze.

Mello's eyes narrowed in an instance and Matt was reminded off blue fire, the kind you got when you set body spray alight. Some of the older kids had done that, sprayed a bunch of the stuff on the walkway then tossed a lit match on it. The flames had looked solid, dangerous, and bright blue.

"I don't need a therapist, Matt," he said, voice steely.

Matt put his hands up, taking a step back subconsciously, "It wasn't my idea, honest."

Mello kicked a pillow and it went sailing over to the desk, knocking down a stack of papers. He fell face first onto his bed, trying to level out his breaths.

"Mells?" Matt cautiously approached, keeping his hands up by his head. He knew that, maybe, treating Mello as if here were a feral beast wasn't the smartest of moves, but it was the only thing he could do at the moment. Besides, when one became prey, the only logical course of action was to proceed with caution.

"You knew that the chocolate wouldn't come up, huh?" Mello's voice was muffled by the bed but Matt heard him well enough.

"What?"

"You knew, you knew I liked chocolate but that wouldn't eat a lot because it wouldn't come up.  _You knew,_ " he hissed.

Matt thought about lying, saying that, no, he didn't know and just thought that it would help Mello keep on a bit of weight. But Matt did know. Mello had shared a chocolate bar with him once, he'd gotten nauseous later in the day and nearly died choking because he couldn't vomit properly. So technically, it was a speculation. But he knew Mello wouldn't be able to control the urge to eat them, especially when Matt kept slipping him bar after bar while he was in a study haze.

"Y-yeah, I knew," he said quietly, "But I only did it because I'm worried for you, you're my only friend, Mells."

He waited, waited for Mello to respond. To be honest, Matt would have preferred angry yelling over Mello's stone cold silence.

After a minute, the blond nodded and rolled off the bed, jamming his feet into some socks and grabbing a book.

* * *

Matt had to grab Mello's wrist to keep him from running away after class.

"I don't want some idiot trying to pick my brain," Mello muttered as Matt slowly tugged him down the hall.

If there was one thing Matt had to be grateful for at the moment, it was that Mello was thin, and weaker than Matt. But damn, the blond made use of every corner and door to slow their progress to the office.

"They're just trying to help, Mello," Matt argued.

"I don't need their help!"

"I hate to say it, but you kind of do. You're eleven for God's sake."

"So are you!" Mello grumbled as his grip on the wall slipped and Matt gained a previous seven inches of distance.

"That's irrelevant," he muttered, shifting his grip around Mello's waist.

"I don't see why it's such a big deal!"

"What is such a big deal?" a monotone voice froze the both of them in their tracks.

Near, as well as the rest of Wammy's House, didn't know why Mello had collapsed, only that he'd gone to the hospital. The most popular theory was that he'd just overworked himself to the point of exhaustion. It was a believable theory.

No one knew about the bulimia but Matt and Roger.

Matt, if he was being truly honest with himself, thought hat Near unintentionally made Mello's situation a bit worse. Mello strived for perfection, that's why he was in the predicament that he was. And he was okay for a while, the nightly rendezvous with the bathroom had decreased a bit and he was number one. But then Near arrived and bumped him down to second. Mello felt inferior, being beaten by someone younger than him. He began to frequent the stalls more often, he studied harder, ate less. Matt wasn't blaming he boy, no, Mello's situation was his own, but Near had been a keg of gasoline on the fire.

"It's none of your business you sheep!" Mello shouted.

The distraction allowed for Matt to pull Mello the rest of the way off the wall. Near just shrugged and walked off.

Once he was out of sight, Mello slumped in Matt's arm and the sudden shift made him stumble.

"You okay?"

"Shut up," Mello mumbled, allowing Matt to drag him to the office.

"Here we are."

"I don't want to go in, they'll just tell me that something's wrong with me. They'll tell me that I'm broken, I'm not broken Matt."

Matt looked to his friend, nothing that he looked just as small as he had when Matt found him in the washroom the night before.

"You're not broken, Mells, but you do need help, this isn't healthy-"

"Come in with me."

"What?" Matt's eyes widened behind his goggles.

"I want you in there, with me," he sounded sure, and he stood up straighter.

"Are you sure?"

"Why else would I say it, dummy?"

A small grin wormed its way onto Matt's face and he nodded, clapping Mello on the shoulder.

"Okay then."

Matt rapped on the door and waited until he heard a 'come in'. Mello slowed a bit, before building up a slight bravado and strutting in. He all but dragged Matt into the room and pulled him down to the small loveseat. He tucked up his knees to his chest in a defensive position, schooling his features to impassivity.

They turned to the therapist and waited, surprised to see that it was a woman. They'd both been expecting that Mello's help would be coming from a man.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you Mello, and you, you must be Matt, correct?"


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmkay, so, introduction of the therapist, but not so much the therapy, that'll come later. In my original drafts, she was a pretty shitty therapist so I decided to make her a bit better, so that'll affect later plot points. Anyhow, read on!

Mello gave his therapist a once over.

She looked to be in her mid-thirties, naturally a brunette though she had dyed it slightly darker, he could tell, there was a dot of dye on her ear lobe. Her eyes were a dullish green, flecked in grey and magnified by thick glasses. She dressed professionally enough, a light blue blouse and a pair of dark grey slacks.

She wore barely enough perfume to cover the smell of cigarette smoke.

Their clasped hands were hidden by his drawn up knees and Matt's floppy shirt so he didn't feel as worried when he tightened his grip on Matt's hand. This woman was going to attempt to analyze him, figure out what made him tick, what made his gears turn and his fire burn brighter.

He didn't want her to.

"My name is Sheridan, Mr. Ruvie has explained to me your situation as well as the circumstances and privacy in place here," she said.

She didn't sound like a long term smoker, maybe she recently started.

"Now, I understand that you may not feel like this is necessary, and you may not think that there is a problem. But that's why I'm here, we'll talk though this and come up with a healthy solution.

Mello gripped Matt's hand even tighter, ignoring the boy's pained grimace as his blood flow was cut off.

"While it does demonstrate the amount of trust you have in Matt, I think it would be for the best if he sat out on this first meeting. He could definitely come in for other sessions if you want him to, but for today," she turned to Matt, "Sweetie, why don't you go? You can wait for Mello in your room."

Matt nodded and slowly twisted his hand from Mello's, preparing to get up.

"Wait-" Mello started. He willed down the emotions and steeled his voice.

"Yes?" Matt asked.

"Wait outside here, don't go back to our room without me," he said at last.

"Sure, got my GameBoy anyways," Matt ruffled his hair and Mello didn't miss the warm gaze he got from behind the orange lenses.

Once the door closed, Mello put his knees down, crossing one over the other and leaning on the arm of the couch. He'd seen the pose used by the older girls when they decided to be cold and sassy. Mika had done it to, when their cousins came over and tried to annoy her. She practically radiated negativity and she always managed to keep them at bay.

Mello figured he could do the same.

"So, you two are roommates?" Sheridan began, pulling a notebook from a satchel that sat on the floor.

"Yes," Mello said shortly.

"And you obviously get along well. As I understand it, it was Matt who alerted Mr. Ruvie after you collapsed."

Mello stayed quiet, fixing his gaze on the bookshelf.

He had tried not to dwell on how his collapse had affected Matt. The other boy was tough, sure, not as touch as Mello but he liked to think that Matt was fine. No way Matt would be so worried.

"I can understand if you don't want to talk about it. We can save it for another time if you'd like."

* * *

Matt stared at his screen, eyes glazed, mind on autopilot.

He was worried about Mello. The boy had obvious issues with authority and the fact that he was now dealing with a therapist, it was even worse. Would Mello's temper get the better of him? Would he throw things, scream? Or would he break down? Sob?

Oh god.

If he did that then Matt had to be in there, Mello couldn't be alone with that woman.

No, Mello was strong. He was the toughest boy Matt knew, except for the whole collapsing bit. That's what worried him. Matt had no idea what possessed his friend so strongly that he'd willingly puke his guts out. Well, he knew, but he didn't really know. And he decided that that was okay for now. When Mello was ready, he'd tell him, but until then Matt had vowed to move heaven and earth to get Mello back on his feet.

A crash brought him from his thoughts and Matt jolted up as a blur of black rushed past him.

"Mells!" he jumped up, paying no attention to the frazzled therapist in the doorway.

While Matt was substantially stronger, Mello had the advantage of speed. All those hours playing in the field and sprinting laps around the building had given him the track and field legs that Matt was sorely lacking.

"Mello! What happened?"

Mello turned a corner but Matt managed to latch onto his sleeve and tug. The sudden imbalance caused them to tumble, half crashing into each other, half into the wall.

Matt scurried up, untangling their limbs so he could get a good look at his friend.

Mello's eyes were well on their way to being red, shining with unshed tears. However, they would fall soon enough and Mello wouldn't have started to cry unless something made him upset, or angry.

Before Matt could look further, Mello curled in on himself, hiding his body wracking shakes under the ruse of muscle strain as he shrunk smaller and smaller. Matt could hear the muffled gasps as Mello tried not to cry. He settled down beside him and threw an arm around his shoulder, tugging him closer into a pseudo half hug.

"Alright, you're okay Mello, it's alright," Matt continued the string of comforts, all the while rubbing Mello's arm and sometimes squeezing his shoulder.

When Mello stopped shaking, Matt helped him up and guided him to their room. He let Mello curl up on his bed and jumped up beside him, waiting until he spoke.

"I hate her," Mello whispered.

"You hate a lot of people," Matt countered.

"She insulted my sister."

Oh, well that changed things.

Mello didn't talk all that much about Mika, but Matt knew that he held the girl in the highest regards. The two had been close and Mello had all but lain hero worship upon her. For someone to insult her, even unknowingly, would lead to a fist fight.

"What did she say?"

"She insinuated that Mika was a bad influence, that there was something wrong with her and that's why- Mika was perfect, there was nothing wrong with her…and there's nothing wrong with me."

Mello poked his head out of his blanket cocoon and Matt was given the stunning impression of a turtle who had stayed his whole life in his shell and was only now just poking his head out.

Matt grinned and Mello sat up, punching his shoulder. It would undoubtedly bruise but Matt didn't really care.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Mello," he said simply, "Nothing at all."

The words may not have been the right ones, because there certainly was something wrong. There was something wrong with Mello but it didn't make him any less of a person, or a broken one. Matt had never been fancy with words so, even though it would most likely get him hit, he hugged his friend. His mom used to hug him when he was feeling bad. Maybe it would work on Mello.

Mello just froze.

Matt soon pulled back when he realized that Mello had gone into some sort of shock.

"I'm sure they've still got some equipment set up outside, you wanna' go see?"

Mello was up and pulling him from the room before Matt even heard him say yes.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, so we've got some interaction with Near in this chapter and some fluffy stuff, I'm pretty sure that's it. I think our therapist will be showing up again soon so...yeah.
> 
> Warning: Mentions of bulimia

Of course, due to Mello's track record with sports, Matt had to drag him away after a half hour when he realized that Mello was just running around unnecessarily. He'd grabbed the older boy by his wrist and tugged him closer, bending down to hook his elbow around Mello's leg, and lifted him up into a fireman's carry. Mello tried thrashing but Matt just tightened his grip and brought Mello inside.

"You said I could play!" Mello protested.

_"Play_ , Mells, not vehemently exercise. You're eleven for god's sake."

"So are you!" Mello repeated what he'd said earlier, "And you're acting like a little adult!"

"Well, I'm sorry but I want to live out my life with my best friend and I don't want you to go to the hospital again," Matt had to loosen his grip to open their door but Mello didn't try to get out of the hold just yet.

Matt dumped him on his bed but stayed standing.

"So help me, Mello, if I have to, I'll handcuff you to me before we go to sleep, just so I know you're alright at night."

Mello looked up into the blazing green of Matt's eyes, no longer obstructed by his goggles. Matt wasn't that much of an imposing figure, he looked like a background character when he wasn't dressed so oddly. But right then, Mello saw fire in those eyes.

"Matt-"

"Look, Mells, I've been trying not to crack down on you, I think you're strong; you're the strongest kid I've ever met. I thought you could beat this on your own for the most part, but if I have to start force feeding you I will, and you won't be allowed to play sports anymore and I'm gonna start carrying you around everywhere. You're my best friend and I'm not gonna lose you because you think you aren't good enough!"

Matt was breathing heavy, the fire in his eyes was replaced with desperation and tears, his cheeks were tinged pink. His voice cracked and broke, his rant had been perforated with gulps of air that he'd forgotten he needed. Matt looked like he was on the verge of sobbing.

Mello didn't know what to do. He watched Matt deflate, drop himself to his bed and rub at his face. Matt didn't look eleven, he looked like an old man who was worried about too much.

"Make me a deal?" Matt said quietly.

"Of course," the words slipped past Mello's lips before he'd even processed the question.

Matt pulled a chocolate bar from the bed side table drawer and held it up.

"Every time, any time, you think about," he shuddered, "throwing up, or if you think anything bad about yourself, I want you to eat some chocolate. It doesn't have to be a whole bar, but eat some."

Mello understood Matt's train of thought in the matter. Since the chocolate would prevent Mello form vomiting, or at the very least, make it painful, he would eventually stop. Pain was a wonderful teacher after all. And maybe it would work, but maybe it wouldn't. Matt was his best friend, yes, but it was near impossible to stop the little nagging voice in the back of his head that told him he was imperfect. That he wasn't smart enough. That he'd never be good enough.

"Mello, please, at least promise that you'll try," Matt begged, moving off his bed and onto Mello's to grab his shoulder. They held each other's gaze for too long, both waiting for the other to tap out.

But Mello finally caved and nodded.

"I'll try."

"Thank you," Matt whispered.

* * *

Matt kept good on his word that night and somehow procured a pair of handcuffs. He crawled into bed with him and clipped on the cuff before Mello realized he had them to begin with. They were covered in a soft padding so the metal wouldn't bite in too deep, but otherwise, they could have easily come off the belt of a police officer.

"Matt!"

"I'm serious, Mells, I may be a heavy sleeper but even I'm gonna wake up if you get out of bed. And don't think about picking the lock because then I'm just gonna have to tell Roger not to let you take the next ranking test."

With that said, Matt put the other cuff on his own wrist and lay down, stealing one of Mello's pillows and curling around it.

"What the hell!" Mello was still partially sitting, propped up on his cuffed hand, staring incredulously at his friend.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself," Matt mumbled.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Mells, use that big, smart brain of yours and recall our earlier conversation. Then use that same brain to figure out why this is necessary," Matt quipped.

Mello stared, having half a mind to just drag the other boy around the room until he agreed to unlock the handcuffs. But he had no doubt that Matt would sure that he didn't take the test. Mello couldn't afford that.

With a dramatic huff, he lay down, tugging on the chain and making Matt's hand jump into the air.

"Mello," he warned.

"Matt."

"Let me get my sleep or I'm gonna start slipping sedatives into your food."

Mello grumbled and made a fuss about getting comfortable, to the point where he heard a low growl from Matt before he smirked, satisfied, and lay down again.

Matt eventually fell asleep and Mello sighed.

He set his unchained hand on his stomach, poking and prodding it like he'd seen his mother do to Mika's. It wasn't quite bloated, and he'd put on a bit of weight. Matt had done away with the scale in the bathroom after he'd caught Mello staring at the red needle that indicated he'd gained five pounds since leaving the hospital. He wasn't happy about it.

The bulimia was such a normal thing to him at that point. And to have it taken away, to be forced to eat, Mello  _hated_  it. Matt made sure to tell him that he looked fine, that he was starting to actually look healthy with a little protective layer of fat on his stomach. But Mello didn't think so. To him, healthy had always meant skinny.

Mika suffered through a number of fractures because her bones were brittle from the lack of nutrients. She had blackouts and would suddenly collapse at their home, or at the park, or in the middle of a market. When she was unconscious for almost a week, Mello had stopped vomiting, if only for a month and a half. He'd thought that if that was what happened, then he didn't want it. But he started eating again, and the negative thoughts swirled back, tenfold.

And he'd started up without hesitation.

The next morning, Matt unlocked the handcuffs and watched as Mello rolled the kinks out of his back.

"What are you looking at?" Mello snapped.

The sharp tone didn't seem to faze Matt.

"Your hips protrude way too far."

In his stretching, his baggy wife beater had slid up, revealing a bony hips and pant drawstrings tied too tight.

"They do not," he protested.

Matt rubbed his face before pulling up his own shirt, showing Mello the fact that his hip bones were hardly visible at all, they were just soft ridges under his skin.

"See?"

Mello wanted to say that he saw excess fat. He wanted to tell Matt what he heard his mother tell Mika, " _If I can't count your ribs, you're not thin enough. I need to be able to feel your hip bones, dip my thumb into them,"_ But this was Matt, he couldn't just say that to him.

On any given day, Mello could pitch a fit, and scream and swear at Matt. But he couldn't insult him. Playfully calling him stupid, or an idiot, was one thing, it was another to call him fat. Mello knew what it felt like to be put down, he couldn't do that to his only friend.

"Yeah," he mumbled, pulling down his shirt and getting up.

The two walked down to breakfast, still in pajamas. A familiar monotonous voice spoke up behind them.

"You met with a therapist yesterday, correct? How did the session go?" Near asked. He didn't sound like he cared much but the look in his eyes made him seem legitimately concerned.

It was only his past experiences with Mello that allowed for Matt to predict the anger that would erupt out of the boy. He threw his arms around Mello's waist as the boy turned around and wrapped his right hand around his left, bending his legs to give him a slight bit of traction. Mello kicked and thrashed, trying to pry off Matt's hands, it was of little use though, his nails were bitten to the skin so they didn't do much damage. All the while, he called Near every name in the book.

Through it all, Near just stared, a blank, though not vacant, look on his face. The concern dwindled in his eyes and he appeared disinterested with the insults.

"I see that what I have said has offended you, I will go now."

Near shuffled off down the hall, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he'd just turned his back on a raging inferno.

"Get back here, you sheep," Mello shouted.

"Mells, chill out," Matt shifted his grip, digging his heels into the carpet.

"No! Matt, let me go! God damn it,  _now,_  Matt! I'm gonna pound his stupid little albino face. It'll give him some color!" he projected the last bit to Near's disappearing form down the hallway.

"Mello, he's Near, of course he figured it out, but leave it, beating his face in makes you different than the people who used to wail on me. And it's not gonna change the fact that Near knows you're seeing a therapist. Besides, he's not the type to gossip so  _calm the hell down."_

Mello didn't stop thrashing right away, rather he slumped down against the arms that restrained him. Matt let him go after a few heart beats of silence and he dropped gently to his knees.

"Okay?"

"Shut up, goggles," Mello muttered, picking himself up.

They began walking but Mello stopped suddenly, looking away from Matt.

"Hey, Matty?" he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Um, the deal we made last night- can I eat the chocolate for breakfast?"


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really tired, sorry, I've just not had it in me to actually work on revisions and re-typing for this mess, I apologize again. Anyways, all chapters from here on out are gonna be 2,000+ words and if I remember correctly there will be some over 3,000, so that's nice. I've tried to rewrite Sheridan, I still want her to be a shitty therapist, but not as bad as she was in the first draft, so I based her off this military therapist I had a while back, that woman was a monster, I swear. Alright, read on!
> 
> Warning: Mentions of bulimia and anorexia

It had been three weeks since Matt used the handcuffs to keep Mello from sneaking off at night. Although, that wasn't to say that Mello hadn't thrown up in that time, Matt couldn't be everywhere at once. Usually, when they returned from breakfast to shower, Mello would flip on the fan and start running the water. Matt usually timed him but Mello was willing to sacrifice a few of the minimized minutes Matt had given him.

In that time, Sheridan had seen him for nine appointments, three a week. He still hated the woman, though Matt or Roger had to have talked to her because she didn't bring Mika up again. She'd grown the slightest bit bearable after the first handful of sessions. She was patient, and she didn't bat an eye with Mello commented on her recent weight gain and the fact that she was staring to show signs of premature wrinkling and greying hair. Though, the grey hair was probably his fault, he made sure to put the woman through hell.

Sheridan reminded him time and time again that she was only here as a sounding board, just to talk. Mello didn't want to talk to her though. The idea of spilling his guts to the woman was repulsive. He'd enlisted the help of one of the younger children to distract her before their session one day so he could sneak a look at the notes she took. The neat words recorded his poor anger management skills, his habit of deflecting attention by way of insults, as well as his apparent inferiority complex. He couldn't really argue with that.

A little foot note stressed the importance of reaching even ground with him. Like that would ever happen.

* * *

Matt had handcuffed them together every night since the first, and though Mello would never admit it, he'd gotten used to the extra presence beside him.

"Matt?" he called quietly as the boy climbed into his own bed, rolling on his side so his back was to Mello.

"I trust you Mells, don't make me wrong."

"What the hell?" he shouted.

"I'm serious."

"You're crazy."

"We both are."

Mello was angry, he didn't know why. The most likely candidate was Matt's tone, it was too calm. Did he expect Mello to sneak out since he was no longer handcuffed? Is that why he used the most guilt inducing statement possible? That had to be it; he was going to play on Mello's obvious soft spot for him. Sneaky bastard.

"Matt-"

"Unless you'd rather me handcuff you, if you feel safer that way, that's fine."

"Safer?" Mello spat incredulously.

"Yeah, you feel safer knowing that you won't be able to sneak off. You feel safer with me, don't you?" Matt had yet to turn around so Mello was staring at the back of his head.

"That's not-"

"I'm not judging you, Mells, you know I won't do that," Matt heaved a sigh and sat up, swinging his legs off his bed and propping his arms up on his knees.

Mello just grumbled.

"I'm serous, honest to god, Mells-"

"You said you don't believe in a god, that statement means absolutely nothing," Mello cut in.

"Whatever, point is, if you want to sleep together, I don't care. If it makes you feel better then I'm all for it."

Mello dropped his gaze to his hands. Why was Matt doing all this? Mello was nothing but a broken genius and he didn't see why Matt was wasting his time with him. Or why he cared so much. The bubbling voice at the back of his head whispered to him that Matt felt bad for him. He was nothing but a pity case. He was worthless-

"Why are you doing this? Why are you putting up with all this?" he finally asked.

Matt looked at him with a tired grin, green eyes full of hazy warmth.

"You're my first and only friend, Mells. I believe that speaks for itself."

Matt held out his hand, baggy sleeve pooling at his wrist. He waiting patiently, keeping the grin on his lips until he saw the tension slip from Mello's body.

"Now," he chuckled, "we have a math test tomorrow, you've got to get some sleep."

Mello took the proffered hand and Matt's smile grew even wider. They settled into Mello's bed, facing the other. Matt kept hold of his hand and Mello was the first to close his eyes.

* * *

"I think we should invite Matt in today."

Mello's eyes instantly narrowed. Why all of a sudden? Did she think that Matt would be her trump card? That Matt would be her battering ram to get through to Mello? No way would Matt do anything to help her, right?

Despite the immediate anxiety that gripped his stomach, he really did want Matt in there with him, even if only to hold his hand.

He stood up and opened the door, hanging onto the frame so only his upper body was visible. Matt sat against the wall, one of his game players untouched at his side.

"Matt?"

He stood quickly, clearing his throat, and Mello tried to look beyond the orange lenses. What was up with Matt? Had he been crying? Is that why his goggles had little smudges on the inside edges?

"Yeah?

"Um, Sheridan wants you to sit in today."

It was instantaneous. The awkward air settled over them, heavy and suffocating, it had both boys shifting uneasily on their feet. Matt scooped up his DS and slid it into his pocket before casting a split second side glance to Mello's hand. No doubt thinking back to the first session where Mello had just about cut off his circulation.

They sat down on the couch, Matt taking note of Mello's posture. To anyone else, Mello might seem composed, in control, but Matt could see the toll the false composure was taking. No wonder Mello always seemed so worn out after the sessions.

"Alright Matt, I've decided to include you today because I feel that Mello might feel a bit more comfortable with you here."

Matt knew that wouldn't work, but he nodded anyways.

She turned her attention to Mello who just glared back.

"So, from what I've gotten from Mr. Roger, you have been eating, which is good, but I am going to ask if you've been keeping it down. It could be a fluke of course, but according to the chart, your caloric intake and weight gain aren't quite lining up."

After three sessions of sugar coating things, Sheridan had figured that the best way to deal with Mello was blunt statements. She noticed of course the very pointed way that Mello refused to even side eye his friend at the observation.

"I've been allowed field time to play with some of the other kids, and I have a fast metabolism, I've always been slim, even before it all," Mello said calmly, never breaking eye contact with the woman.

He wasn't necessarily lying. He'd been born premature so it wasn't like he had much weight to spare. He'd managed to put on some pounds in his toddler years but even then, he'd still been small. It was what he used to hide the bulimia before. He'd asked Mika about bulimia and anorexia, asked which was easier. Mika said that bulimia was a bit easier to hide, people noticed the lack of eating, and it was only after a number of years that the repercussions kicked in.

"I see, have you weighed yourself?"

Mello arched a brow, he wanted to, he really did. The Wammy's House nurse weighed him but the scale was two part, the numbers only appeared on the small secondary part, the one he couldn't see because the woman could hold it in her hand. Besides that, Matt had somehow managed to do away with every other scale in the entirety of the orphanage. Mello had gone so far as to sneak into a few of the girls' dorms to just to see, but nothing. And he was dying to know just how much weight he'd put on.

All he knew was that he was in fact gaining, tiny layers of fat were beginning to form. He was still most likely underweight, but it killed him when he noticed that day by day, he grew heavier and heavier.

"That's a 'no' then," Sheridan scribbled something on her notepad and Mello scowled, eyes roaming over her to find a detail he could exploit.

There was band of skin lighter than the rest on her ring finger.

"Divorced?" he asked.

He knew Matt gave him a look, it was most likely one of disbelief, but he ignored it.

"Good eye," Sheridan grinned, not at all as thrown off as Mello had hoped, "I am, yes, a few months now, it's nice."

"Kids?"

"Two, a few years younger than you," Sheridan had to know where he was going.

"Hmm," Mello took a piece of his hair between too thin fingers, inspecting it and letting the silence drag on for a little bit, "How would you know if either of them were in my situation? I mean, I've heard that people in the psychology and sociology professions make terrible parents."

He saw Matt's lip tug into a smirk before it was smothered by a frown.

"I'm just saying that they must get tired of being analyzed all the time? I know I would, hell, I am, and I only see you for three hours a week. That must suck, full time, wow, stuck beneath a mountain of 'Perfect Parenting', god, even the thought makes me want to gag."

He saw something flicker in Sheridan's eyes. It wasn't good.

"Is that what you were stuck under? Perfect Parenting? Or parents expecting perfection?"

His fingers twitched, wanting to close around Matt's hand.

"Something similar I suppose, at least they didn't act high and mighty," Mello said evenly.

The timer on the desk went off, its shrill tone shattering the tension in the room.

Mello beamed and stood up, dragging Matt out of the room. He wanted out, Sheridan had flipped the script and he was not happy about that.

* * *

Matt had a bad feeling since the announcement was made. Dread swirled heavy in his stomach. Test scores were posted in the meal room during dinner. The score was a conglomerate of all the tests they'd taken in the past couple of weeks. They were getting ready to go, Mello nearly bouncing in anticipation. He'd not had any fights recently, but given the incident with Sheridan earlier, Matt worried that Mello would snap when he saw that Near beat him yet again.

"Hey, Mells?"

He wanted to ask if Mello still remembered their deal. He'd proposed it so that if Mello felt bad, he would eat the chocolate, preventing him from throwing anything up later, and also because the bars he got were as high in calories and fat as Matt could possibly find. He hadn't even known if it would work initially, everyone's stomach worked differently, but it had been worth a try. It also served the purpose of letting Matt know when Mello was feeling bad so the boy didn't actually have to vocalize it.

"Yeah?" Mello was shining, his shoulders thrown back confidently; he felt that he'd actually beat Near.

Matt didn't want to ruin that.

"Never mind," he mumbled, grabbing Mello's hand as they entered the meal room.

Mello immediately went to the score board, tugging Matt along.

_Near: 100_

_Mello: 98.5_

_Matt: 95_

Matt swore silently and made sure he had a sturdy grip on Mello's hand. The other kids smartly kept to themselves, they knew better than to step in.

"Mells, hey, it's fine. It's only a point and half difference, that's better than the last one, I'm sure you'll do even better the next go around."

He saw Mello's free hand clench, saw the shakes that ran up his arms and down his back. He saw his toes dig into the floor and saw the hot tears that began welling up. Mello wasn't one to contain his anger; he didn't blow up, not yet.

Instead, he wrenched his hand from Matt's, knocked over a few chairs and kicked open the door. Matt hurried after him, struggling to keep up with his pace.

"Mello!"

The door to their room nearly slammed into his face when it rebounded off the wall and he had to throw his arms up. The door stuttered open and he saw Mello on his bed. He sat there, toes barely touching the ground, holding his head in his hands. With a quiet sight, Matt sat down beside him, wrapping his arms around Mello in a loose hug.

The boy all but melted, falling apart into a mess of angry babble and tears. Matt rocked him lightly back and forth, occasionally running a hand up and down Mello's arm or back. He didn't say anything; it wasn't the right time yet.

About ten minutes passed before Mello managed to stop crying.

"You calm now?" Matt asked quietly.

"Shut up," came the weak reply.

"Mells, really, you shouldn't beat yourself up over this, it was a point and half difference, that's better than you've ever gotten."

"That's not the point," Mello's voice was hoarse, emotionless. Matt didn't like it, Mello was passion and emotion incarnate, he projected with a megaphone.

"Enlighten me then."

He waited until Mello gathered himself up enough to speak more.

"I'm never going to beat him, ever. He'll always be a step ahead, two steps, whatever. I can't beat Near. Anything and everything I try to do, I end up failing."

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Mello meant much more than just beating Near.

"Well, there is one thing I can think of that you definitely have not failed."

Mello pulled a bit out of Matt's arms, not entirely disentangling himself. He brought his eyes to Matt's.

"And what would that be?" he sounded skeptical.

"We're still friends, aren't we?"

Matt knew it was corny as hell but it wrung a small chuckle from Mello and that was enough. He grinned as Mello rolled his eyes and moved closer to Matt, wrapping his arms around him, finally hugging back.

"It pisses me off, you know? That you're good at this," Mello mumbled.

"I know."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while, I am so sorry. School has been busy as hell and I've been on a downward swing. This chapter is a little shorter than the last, if I remember correctly the next one will be definitely be longer. This chapter is also a little all over the place, I just had to get some stuff out of the way before moving on to Chapter Ten. I will do my utmost to get Ten out this weekend, most likely on Sunday if I can sit myself down and write. So yeah, enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Implications of Bulimia

"Do I even have to ask why this happened?"

Near sat in the corner, an angry red bruise blossoming on the side of his face, seemingly uninterested in the goings on around him. Mello was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, the very picture of icy regality.

Roger sighed and turned to the third party.

"Matt, tell me what happened."

From what he knew, Matt hadn't been directly involved in the conflict. He was however the only one who'd seen everything happen. Roger had been given conflicting reports from the other children, some said that Mello had gone off in a fit of rage. From what he could see, Mello had only hit the boy in the face, not that that was acceptable.

"I dunno," Matt muttered, tapping away at his Game Boy.

"You don't know, or you're refusing to tell me?"

It was common knowledge that Matt was Mello's friend, and Roger knew that they'd only grown closer since the 'incident'. But really, why couldn't he just say what happened so he could get them out of his office?

"Both, neither, one of them," he said, smirking. Mello cracked a grin but hid it with a cough as he shared a sideways glance with Matt.

Roger sighed and steepled his fingers, fixing his tired gaze on Mello.

"While I'm glad you appear to be in a better state of mind, this behavior is entirely unacceptable. Just because Near makes you angry does not give you the right to hit him."

Mello only scowled.

After a few minutes of fruitless effort, Roger decided that Mello was not allowed to go outside of the orphanage for the rest of the week, and that his contact with Near was to be minimal. Mello dragged Matt from the office after shooting a particularly nasty look in Near's direction.

He stormed back to their room, throwing the door open and falling face first onto his bed.

"You okay?" Matt asked, slipping his goggles off to hang around his neck.

"Damn sheep," Mello muttered.

"Mells, you punched him in the face, you've never done that before."

And really, Mello had never gone that far.

He'd shoved Near aside, maybe flicked the kid in the forehead a few times, hell, he'd even tripped him before. But actually getting violent, Matt hadn't even thought it a possibility.

"I wanted to break his stupid nose," Mello growled, voice muffled by the bed.

Matt rolled his eyes and settled himself on the bed next to Mello, content to wait until the boy was done stewing. He knew that pressing Mello for more information, why he suddenly snapped and punched Near, wasn't going to do any good. The only thing he really could do was make sure that Mello was happy, and keep him away from Near as much as he could.

He was proud of Mello, in a way. Certainly not for punching Near, but for the fact that he was healthy enough to do so. Mello  _did_ look healthier, his skin wasn't as sallow, it was beginning to take on a nice glow, his hips still protruded, and Matt could still count his ribs and he may not have gained as much as Matt thought, he was doing better. Sure, punching Near wasn't a good thing, but in Mello's delicate situation, it was an improvement.

One that Matt would have work on, anger management seemed to be Mello's weak spot, everyone knew that.

As a whole though, Mello as improving.

The only bad thing that had happened recently was Mello's small conniption with Sheridan. He knocked over a lamp and flipped an arm chair before running off. Sheridan was a decent therapist, she could go toe to toe with Mello, she seemed to have an endless supply of patience, but in all reality, she wasn't the best fit for Mello. She dealt with kids who actually  _wanted_ to get better, regardless of if they pretended otherwise. Mello didn't want that. Mello didn't see the problem, he didn't think he had a problem, despite the fact that he was inhaling more and more chocolate every day, as per their agreement.

Mello did not want to get better, not truly.

After the episode in the office, Mello had locked himself in the bathroom and Matt had to unhinge the door from the frame and drag the other boy away from the toilet. Heh ad been kicking and shouting, swearing at Matt in a language he didn't understand.

It had been a bad day, Matt had known that whey they woke up. Mello had them from time to time, they cropped up without warning but he'd managed to formulate the best way to handle them.

He slipped the handcuffs from the dresser drawer and put one on Mello's wrist, attaching the other to the bed for a moment, forcing Mello to sit down. He dragged the comforter from his bed and draped it around Mello's shoulders when the boy stopped fuming. Then he sat down, acting as a silent anchor should Mello start to drift away again.

It had been a while since they'd actually been handcuffed together. Mello hadn't needed them in a while, he would crawl into Matt's bed and hold his hand, squeezing his fingers until they turned white. Matt found he didn't mind so much anymore, just so long as Mello was alright.

They sat on the bed together, Matt had uncuffed Mello a few hours ago but the blond was hiding under a mountain of pillows and blankets. Matt was tapping away on his Game Boy, leading his Pokemon into glorious battle for the fifth time in a row.

"Hey, Matty?" Mello asked quietly, lifting his head up from the mattress, pushing some of the blankets away from his face.

"Hmm?" he paused his game, looking up.

"Pass me a chocolate bar."

Matt held back the tired sigh that threatened to burst past his lips but got up and pulled a bar of chocolate from where they were stacked on the book shelf. He tore off the top half of the wrapper and handed the rest to Mello.

The boy bit about a quarter of it off, working the big piece into his mouth little by little before dropping his head again. Matt could hear the chewing over the game music, but he didn't say anything because that was Mello's angry chewing. He chewed like that when he was forcing himself to eat. It probably wasn't healthy, the amount of chocolate Mello was eating, but he was starting to gain a bit more weight. Matt could still count his ribs of course, but Mello hat yet to get sick from sweet consumption.

It was more so the fact that the amount of chocolate Mello ate translated into the amount of times he was feeling low, or thinking negative things about himself.

* * *

Come dinner time, Matt pulled Mello from his blanket fortress and let him get on his back. He carried him down the halls and set him down on a bench when they reached the meal room. Part of him said to force feed Mello, to make him eat. But he'd tried that once and Mello had bit his fingers.

Luckily, Mello ate without prompting. It was slow, agonizingly slow, but he was eating regardless, and that was enough.

"Ready to start language training?" Matt asked, knowing that Mello had been looking forward to it.

"Yeah, I'm going to crush Near, I already know four languages, I bet he only knows two at the most," Mello said, stabbing his fork into his plate with nearly enough force to shatter it.

"Four?" Matt asked, unaware that Mello knew anything other than English and Russian.

"Yeah, English, Russian, German and Spanish."

"Where'd you find the time to learn those?"

"Mother had a lot of people over most weeks, they all spoke a bunch of different languages so Mika helped me learn so we could eavesdrop through the door or underneath the table. She was a polyglot you know, she picked languages up so fast!" Mello said fondly, a glow warming his eyes before he wiped it out.

"I think Roger mentioned we'll start with Spanish, I can help you with that, and then we'll work our way down the list of common languages. I'll teach you what I know," he continued.

Matt grinned and nodded, glad to see that Mello had something to drive him for now.

* * *

When it started to get dark, Mello convinced Matt to climb up onto the roof with them. There was enough space from their window to the nearly flat piece of roofing that they could lift themselves up without falling, but Matt was still apprehensive.

Mello lay on his back and folded his arms across his stomach, a habit he'd picked up since he collapsed. Matt had noticed, he hadn't mentioned it.

"Roger said I have to go back to the hospital for a check-up tomorrow," Mello said after a stretch of silence.

"What? But you're doing good," Matt jolted up, leaning on his side so he could see Mello.

It was true, Mello was doing well, he could maybe do better but he'd made so much progress.

"They're doing x-rays and a professional psychological evaluation, he says it's standard procedure, I don't know."

"Mello-"

"I want you to come with me," Mello cut him off, eyes trained dutifully on the stars that were beginning to come out.

"You sure?" Matt breathed.

"Of course."

Mello's tone was short, but it was also quiet.

* * *

Maneuvering back down presented a bit of a problem as they could barely see their hands in front of their faces, and it took them a little under an hour to get back into their room.

After changing into pajamas and slipping into Matt's bed, a thought crossed Mello's mind.

"Do you think Roger told L?" he whispered.

Matt felt his heart constrict.

Through all his worrying for Mello, he'd not thought once about if the genius detective knew or not. If Roger had told him, he would have contacted them, right? Did Roger not want to bother him? They hadn't received a case update, so they didn't know what he was doing currently. If he did find out, he could pull Mello out of the running for successor. Matt didn't even want to entertain the thought.

"Do you want him to?" he asked.

Mello opened his mouth, preparing to say his piece but decided against it and kept his mouth shut, burying his face in the pillow.

They said nothing more after that and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Mello watched Matt, keeping perfectly still until he was sure that the other boy was deep into the REM cycle. Slowly, he slipped out of bed and made his way to the first floor bathroom.

Matt didn't register the loss of warmth in bed, he was fitfully dreaming about what would happen if l found out.

It took a half hour but Mello returned just like he always did, after getting rid of the rancid taste of stomach acid by brushing his teeth until his gums bled and washing his hands until his skin was red. He snuggled back under Matt's comforter, moving closer than he had been when the other had fallen asleep.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this was supposed to be up last week, I'm sorry I'm a mess, not even a hot mess, I'm a lukewarm one at best. Anyways, here we are, chapter ten. My winter break is coming up next week so hopefully I'll get a few chapters in. I think my issue was that I got the idea for the KnB story and devoted my time to that. Also, I've been watching Miraculous Ladybug and Haikyuu, and also One Punch Man, i told you, I'm a mess.
> 
> If I could ask though, I'd like to know what you all think. I'm not expecting much since this is a re-upload, but it's been edited and I've changed a few things, it'd be a big help. Okay! Let's get on with it!
> 
> Warning: Mentions of Bulimia

Matt woke Mello the next morning by dragging him out of bed and hitting him with a pillow, jumping back before the other boy could punch him or sweep his legs out from under him.

"What the hell," Mello grumbled, scrambling to his feet. He grabbed a pillow of his own and slung it into Matt's face.

"We start language training today, I figured I'd wake you up," Matt shrugged. He was already dressed, though he'd not bothered to brush his hair. His goggles held back his fringe, and Mello thought about getting him an actual headband one day.

"You should have woken me up sooner, today is the day I beat Near," he strode past Matt and into the bathroom to shower.

Matt let him pass, figuring that he was in a good mood, so maybe he could afford not to hound him for a day.

Or, at the very least, a morning.

By the time Mello deemed himself presentable, Matt had smoothed down his hair and affixed his goggles properly. As they walked down the halls, Matt cleared his throat.

"So," he began, not quite sure how to broach the subject without getting yelled at, "Today's a good day then?

Mello gave him a curious look before understanding dawned in his eyes.

"Call it what you will, Matt," he said offhandedly.

When it was time for class to start, Mello collapsed artfully into a seat, taking on the visage of a chilly ice queen, oozing cold and superiority. Matt thought the look suited him. Near sat a few seats a way, he was fidgeting, trying to get his foot up onto the chair without his knee digging into the edge of the desk. The image seemed to brighten Mello's day ever so slightly, never mind the fact that they would later be going to a hospital.

The language course wasn't for every child at Wammy's, there were only five of them present. Aside from Near, Mello and Matt, Linda sat in the back with her sketchbook opened beside her notes, and a boy named Henry sat beside her, his nose buried deep in a book. Wammy's had a top ten, within that, a top five, and of course, a top three.

As it was, they began with Spanish. Mello, already fluent, grinned and shot a glare in Near's direction.

The action was lost on the younger boy and he only nodded and turned back to trying to adjust his leg.

* * *

"Come on, Mells," Matt had his arms around the older boy's waist, attempting to pull him away from the front gate. Mello didn't want to go to the appointment, Matt had seen him fidgeting as the clock ticked closer and closer. He'd had to manhandle him from their room and through the halls. They'd made it past the gates but Mello had latched on to the bars and refused to let go of them.

"No, I'm not going," he declared.

Matt huffed, shifting his grip. Mello had been all right last night, even in the morning, but now that it was unavoidable, he'd regressed to immaturity and irrationality.

"You have to!"

"I don't  _have_  to do anything!"

Matt gave one final tug but Mello held tighter. Thoroughly put out by his friend's childish behavior and unwillingness to get better, Matt played the only card he could.

He dug his fingers into the soft area that had begun forming at Mello's sides and began to tickle him.

Mello, not expecting the surprise attack, gasped and his hands slipped from the gate. Matt managed to pull him off and over to the waiting car that would drive them to the hospital. As soon as the door shut, Mello punched Matt's arm and resolved to stare out the window.

Soon, they pulled up to the hospital doors and Mello stiffened when Matt unbuckled his seat belt.

"Mells, let's go," he said gently, holding out his hand to help Mello out of the car. He didn't take the proffered hand, but Matt saw the way he was beginning to wring his fingers as they moved closer to the building.

As the automatic doors hissed open, they were hit with the powerful scent of disinfectant.

Mello bit his lip, twisting his hands harder, his fingers screaming at him as he wrung them raw. He took a shaky breath, a poor attempt to calm his nerves. He didn't like hospitals, he never had. They were too sterile, too white, that bit reminded him of Near. But, his hatred of the sheep aside, he was ready to bolt. Mika hadn't much liked hospitals either, she'd spent about a month in a psyche ward before she feigned improved mental health and they let her go. He wouldn't forget the memory of Mika strapped onto a gurney.

He noticed he was still wringing his hands and quickly decided to hold on to Matt's, slipping their palms together instead of just grabbing his wrist like he normally would.

Mello felt a chill settle in his bones. It couldn't be air conditioning, he was wearing a long sleeved shirt, almost a sweater really. He figured it was most likely due to the fact that he'd neglected to eat breakfast and had spent almost all of his shower time vomiting up what little was left in his stomach from the night previous. If his stomach really was empty for as long as it had been, that would explain the chills. They'd happened before, not often though because he usually wore long sleeves and pants designed for colder weather. The fact that Matt was practically a human space heater was also helpful.

Roger was busy so one of the instructors was escorting them, no questions asked.

They sat in the waiting room and Mello quickly let go of Matt's hand, choosing instead to hug his stomach with one arm. He brought his other hand to his mouth and began to nervously chew on the sleeve. Matt pretended not to notice and tapped out a steady beat on the arm of his chair.

It seemed like an eternity until a nurse called Mello past a set of double doors. He latched onto Matt again and tugged him along. The nurse looked like she wanted to say something, most likely wanting tell Mello that Matt probably shouldn't be present. Their instructor leaned in a moment and whispered something into her ear, the nurse only nodded and led them to a room.

It appeared to be a standard room at first glance but Mello noted the lack of anything  _extra_. There was really only the paper sheeted bed, two hard chairs, and a rolling chair for the doctor. Their instructor was still in the hallway, apparently not planning on coming in.

Matt watched in silence as the nurse took Mello's blood pressure and temperature, as well as his heart rate before having him step on a scale she'd brought with her. Mello screwed his eyes shut and refused to look at the numbers, but Matt saw him peek at the nurse's chart when she set it down.

If the look on his face was anything to go by, he wasn't happy with the results.

The nurse stepped out, taking the scale wit her, after saying that the doctor would be in momentarily. She didn't seem all that happy about leaving two children alone, but she didn't really have a choice.

"You okay?" Matt asked, taking stock of his slouched posture.

"Perfect," Mello ground out.

Matt knew that talking would do nothing, not now. Not when Mello was rigid, bracing himself like Atlas with the world on his shoulders. He was about to collapse. So he stayed quiet, pulling his DS from his pocket. He didn't turn it on though, only absently began pressing buttons, keeping an eye on Mello from behind his fringe and the orange tinted lenses of his goggles.

When the doctor came in, Matt put the DS away and pushed his goggles up to hold back his hair.

"Ah, the nurse told me you brought a friend with you."

The hospital card pinned to his shirt read Ian Masters. Matt gave the man a once over. He had laugh lines, and his eyes crinkled when he talked. A worn silver ring hung on a chain around his neck. Matt figured it wasn't his though, the ring was ancient and Masters was pretty young, besides, he already had a wedding band on his ring finger. He took a moment to search the man's eyes before deeming him all right.

Mello didn't even look up.

"I'm Matt," he introduced himself, holding out his hand. Master's obliged him, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you," he said before turning his attention to Mello, "So, that means you're Mello."

"Obviously," Matt noted the biting tone. Mello only used that when he was on the offensive. It was the tone he took with Sheridan during their bad sessions.

If the doctor noted it, which he probably did, he kept it to himself.

Dr. Masters began talking to Mello, asking him questions that Matt knew came straight from a print out. But he intermingled normal questions, instructions, explanations, all the while moving around Mello, sometimes in front of him, other times behind. It seemed to put the boy at ease because he just held still and answered stiffly. Matt doubted that Mello was fully processing the fact that Master's had taken a blood sample and checked his body for physical abnormalities. But he had to be aware to some extent, the answers he gave the doctor were not completely true or false, they were answers that could imply nearly anything but still didn't constitute as lies.

The ease in which the appointment had progressed shattered when Masters asked how Mello discovered bulimia.

Mello seized up and refused to say another word, hunching his shoulders further forward.

The doctor seemed to note the reaction and moved passed it, attempting to reconstruct the previous atmosphere. But it was lost as Mello assumed a sort of protective catatonia, eyes fixed on the floor, hands clenched around the edge of the bed.

* * *

As they left the hospital, Matt slipped his hand into Mello's, guiding him out to the parking lot. Mello only jerked his gaze to their hands, saying nothing and eventually turning his gaze forward. He seamlessly slipped into a slight swagger, throwing confidence and assurance into the air about him. He managed to take the lead, making sure that Matt was walking a half step behind him. Matt figured it was an ego boost after what happened with the doctor.

Who was he to deny Mello that?

When they made it back to Wammy's, Mello all but kicked into their door and strode into their dorm.

"I wanna beat something up," he declared as he began pacing.

Matt arched a brow.

"Like Near?"

"Exactly like Near," Mello settled for kicking the wall.

"If you do that, Roger won't be as lenient as he was last time."

"Roger can go to hell!"

Matt sat down on his bed, not quite willing to approach the raging fire that was wearing a hole in their floor. If he did, Mello would probably bite him or, most likely, punch him. Matt bruised easily, so both of those outcomes were unwanted.

A knock at the door made them jump, filling their heads with suspicion. They both had an idea about what would happen next.

Matt got up to answer, noting how Mello was glaring at the door like it had directly offended him. He nearly choked on his own spit when he saw Mr. Wammy standing there.

"Is L back then?" he asked, taking off his goggles, leaving them to hang around his neck.

"Yes, he wishes to speak to the both of you."

Mr. Wammy's voice was gentle, if Matt had a grandfather he would say that Mr. Wammy sounded like one. The man had a gentle expression, exuding comfort.

Matt cast a look to Mello.

He didn't like what he saw.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, cool, I'm on schedule, that's fantastic. As of yesterday, I'm on Winter break, so I'll try to get a chapter up every few days. I'd say one a day but I know that I'm lazy so that probably won't happen. Also, L shows up in this chapter, he's kind of an ass, but he cares, in a way. Anyhow, I'll shut up, so enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Also, the DSM stuff is from the Volume 5 DSM, it's the only one I could get my hands on. There's a time difference between the setting of the story and the publication of the DSM 5 but I doubt this particular entry has changed all that much. If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong, oh well.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of Bulima

Mello was pale, chalk white really, his eyes wide as the bright blue seemed to dim.

Mello looked afraid.

Mello never looked afraid.

"We'll be there in just a minute," Matt assured Mr. Wammy.

The old man seemed to understand, because there was no way he wouldn't, and he nodded. Matt waited until Wammy was half way down the hall to close the door. He turned to Mello to find him sitting on his bed, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Mells-"

"He knows," Mello whispered, voice suddenly very hoarse.

"Mello, it'll be all right," Matt was cut off again as Mello began shaking. He tucked his legs up to his chest and buried his head in his knees.

"He knows, and he's going to tell me that I can't be a successor anymore and he's gonna lock me up in a mad house."

Mello made to continue with his fearful rambling but Matt sat beside him and took one of his hands. He ran his thumb over Mello's knuckles, attempting to calm him down. While it didn't work entirely, Mello's breathing evened out a little bit.

"L wouldn't do that, Mells, you know that," he said quietly.

"No! I don't know that, that's the problem!" Mello shouted. He began rocking back and forth, tearing his hand from Matt's so he could wrap his arms around his legs.

Matt sighed and pulled Mello into a sideways hug. He let Mello worry and shake and almost cry for a few minutes before gently reminding him that L was in fact waiting, and that no, he wouldn't do any of the things Mello thought he was going to. The older boy dried his eyes and sniffled before stretching out his legs and nodding slowly.

"Besides, he wants to see me to, so I'll be with you, you don't have anything to worry about."

Matt could see the storm clouds beginning to swirl in Mello's mind, he pulled a chocolate bar from the book shelf and pressed it into his hands. It was gone before they made it out the door. They made their way to Wammy's office and Matt knocked, hearing a muffled 'come in', they entered and took a moment to look over their idol before sitting down.

L hadn't changed, he was still sickly pale and the dark circles under his eyes still made him look like a panda. Really, they made him look like a raccoon but the children of Wammy's decided not to insult the man and chose a cuter animal. He wore his ever present baggy jeans and long sleeved shirt, though they couldn't see his feet, it was given that he wasn't wearing shoes or socks. His spindly fingers were busy stacking sugar cubes out of a tea cup, of which contained more of a grainy sludge than actual tea.

"Mello, Matt, good to see you two again," he said, looking up from his tower and over to the boys on the couch.

"L," they said in unison. Mello's voice was quiet with worry and Matt's held a tremor of concern for his friend.

"Now, I will be frank, Roger has explained to me what has transpired in my absence."

Mello gripped Matt's hand, fearing the worst. What if L sent him to a new orphanage? He would rather go to a hospital, at least Matt could visit him there. If he was taken out of the running to be L's successor, Near would win.

He didn't even want to entertain the thought.

"Matt?" L called after a few beats of thick silence.

"Yes?"

"If you would be so kind as to get the DSM from the shelf there."

Matt clenched his jaw. He had an idea of what L was going to do and he was not at all comfortable with the way the situation was turning. Nevertheless, he slipped his hand from Mello's and got up to retrieve the massive book from the shelf. He set it in front of L and returned to Mello, grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

L spent a moment flipping through pages until he came across what he was looking for. He cleared his throat and dragged his index finger down the page, stopping about half way.

"Bulimia Nervosa," he began, moving to the criteria sections, "ah, here, 'Recurrent episodes of binge eating. An episode of binge eating is characterized by both of the following: eating, in a discrete period of time' it says here, in a two hour time period, 'an amount of food that is definitely larger than what most individuals would eat in a similar period of time under similar circumstances.' Also, 'a sense of lack of control over eating during the episode'."

Mello's grip on Matt's hand had slowly grown tighter until he could no longer feel his fingers. When Mr. Wammy had knocked on their door, they knew L was going to do something. But, of all the low down, unethical, and downright mean things that L had done, reading about Bulimia straight from the DSM, to Mello's face no less, was the worst thing he could have done.

L continued reading the criteria points 'B' through 'D' before coming to the rating of severity. He read them aloud and stopped at the rating titled 'Severe'.

"Some with Severe Bulimia Nervosa will have, it says here 'eight to thirteen episodes of inappropriate compensatory behaviors per week' does that sound correct?"

Mello and Matt had remained silent through all of it. Mello feared that he would cry were he to open his mouth. Matt only feared that nothing would come out. Under L's steady gaze, he found himself nodding.

L closed the book and set aside his tea sludge. He steepled his fingers for a moment before jamming one of his thumbs against his lips, he chewed on his nail for a moment before taking a breath.

"Mello," he began, sounding somewhat softer, almost human but not quite there yet.

"Yes?" Mello forced the word past his lips and it came out cracked and dry.

"If you are worried about not being able to be my successor, there is nothing to fear there. You have worked hard to get where you currently are and I believe that were I to remove you, your condition would worsen," his words were quiet and calm, the last bits of monotone slipped away.

"Really?" the grip on Matt's hand disappeared and he rubbed feeling back into his fingers.

"Yes, however, there is some action that must be taken as this sort of behavior is in way productive or safe, and is in fact detrimental to your well being," L turned his attention from Mello, "Matt, Roger tells me you've worked out some sort of system?"

"Oh, yeah, uh, well, I figured since it's painful for Mello to- uh, for him to throw up chocolate, he eats some when he starts to feel low," he tried to drain away his emotion but it was impossible when Mello had once again taken hold of his hand. He wasn't squeezing tightly though, there was only a gentle pressure.

"Interesting, anything else?"

"Uh, sometimes, if Mello had a particularly low day, we handcuff our wrists together so he won't sneak out while I'm asleep."

Their faces flushed red but L only arched a brow.

"Handcuffs?"

"It's effective," Matt mumbled.

L nodded, as if he was tucking the information away to use later. Though, they couldn't think of a single scenario where L would have to handcuff himself to another person.

"You are also present for each meal, correct?"

"I make sure he eats," Matt said quickly. He didn't want to hear Mello's voice crack like it had been, it made his heart ache.

"And exercise?"

"One hour a day, I monitor that to."

Mello tucked his legs up onto the couch and dropped his head to his knees. He wrapped one arm beneath his legs but left the other extended, hand resting in Matt's lap.

L noted the fact.

"I will speak to Mello alone now," he gave Matt a look that said he was welcome to wait outside but that he shouldn't try to eavesdrop.

Mello bit his lap and gave Matt's hand one last squeeze before he let go. The other boy patted his shoulder, letting his hand linger for a split second longer than was strictly necessary. He shut the door behind him and sat down against the wall, drawing his legs up and pillowing his arms atop his knees, dropping his head down as he tried not to cry.

* * *

L took a look at his second successor.

He never visited enough, he knew that. But still, he should have been able to see just how thin the boy was, how tiny he was when he arrived at Wammy's in the first place. He was the great L, and he hadn't known that his second place successor was bulimic. Bulimic! And not even a teenager yet.

"Mello?" L asked, trying to get the boy's attention, which had been fixed on his knees for the majority of the intervention.

"Yes?" there it was again, the broken voice.

"I would be a hypocrite to judge you on food based matters given my own predicament, but I cannot condone this," he said firmly.

"Don't think I don't know that," Mello snapped. L saw the regret flash across his face and made to say something but Mello bit his lip, drawing blood. The boy didn't seem to notice and mumbled an apology.

"Your reasons are your own, Mello, and I do not expect you to explain them to me, as much as I would like you to. But, I will make you a deal."

Mello's gaze flickered up for a second, waiting for L to continue.

"I can stop you seeing Sheridan King if you give me weekly reports," he paused, mind whirring for the next half of the deal, "and let Matt help you, it's quite obvious that he's worried about you."

L kept his gaze steady, noting every twitching movement that Mello made. The boy was seriously considering the deal, that much was obvious, but there was something holding him back. Two whole minutes of silence passed before L saw Mello take a breath to speak.

"What would I include in the reports?" he asked.

"Whether or not you've felt the urge to force yourself to vomit, I would like to know that, as well as how you are doing with your classes, and of your friendship with Matt, anything really. I will establish video connection before you two go to sleep when I am able, elsewise you will send me a typed or recorded report."

Mello nodded, working his lips through his teeth and once again making them bleed, before something appeared to dawn on him.

"What do you mean by letting Matt help me?" his blue eyes narrowed and L allowed a small grin to worm its way onto his lips.

"Try not to push him away so much, he only has your best interests at heart, I am sure."

Mello blinked slowly, owlishly, but stood up, sensing the meeting was over.

"Also," L said quickly, before Mello reached the door, "do attempt not to be so violent with Near."

The boy only gave him a small grin before dashing out.

Matt was waiting right outside and Mello tripped over him, his hands and arms taking the brunt of the fall.

"I wasn't eavesdropping, I swear," the boy protested, eyes veiled by orange lenses.

Mello picked himself up and held a hand down to Matt, who'd gotten pushed to the floor. He accepted the proffered hand with caution, slightly concerned with Mello's sudden shift in attitude.

"Come on, I'm in the clear, and no more therapy sessions with Sheridan," Mello said, hauling his friend up to his feet.

Matt turned to look over his shoulder, glancing at L, silently asking if Mello was serious. The detective only nodded as the door began to close.

"That's great," he beamed, pulling Mello into a hug.

The door swung shut on L's sad smile.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmkay, well, this one is a bit of a baby filler chapter but I figured I'd get it posted today because, hey, it's christmas. Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to those celebrating!

"Mello!" Matt banged on the door, frantically, erratically, frightened, "Mello, open the god damn door, right now!"

It was near impossible to hear what was going on inside over the fan and the running water of the sink and Matt was worried. Mello had woken from a nightmare and before Matt was completely awake, the boy had bolted into the bathroom and locked the door. By the time Matt got to the door, it was locked, he couldn't hear anything and he didn't know if Mello was vomiting or not.

He took a moment to calm himself down and got the key from the underside of the dresser. Roger had made him a copy after the first time Mello locked himself in the bathroom. His hands were shaking as he tried to put the key in and it took him a handful of seconds to actually get it in the lock. When he finally did get the door open, he burst in.

Mello was curled up in front of the bathtub, his back pressed against it. There was no smell of vomit in the air and from what could see, there were no indentions from Mello's teeth on his knuckles.

With slow steps, Matt drew closer, crouching down in front of Mello and settling a hand on his knee.

"Mells?"

"I'm fine," he growled, "I didn't puke if that's what you're worried about."

Matt eased back to sit down properly, keeping his hand on Mello's knee. He waited in silence until Mello finally looked up and met his eye.

"I'm more worried about you," he said.

Mello arched a brow and rolled his red tinged eyes. Matt could see fresh tear tracks painting his cheeks, but didn't point them out.

"Same thing isn't it?" Mello hadn't moved much, only shifting one of his hands so his pinky touched Matt's.

"Not really, well, kind of. I'm more worried about _you_ than I am the fact that you didn't _vomit_ , though I am glad about that."

With a short sigh, Matt rose from his crouch and turned to the small drawer beneath the sink, looking for a washcloth. When he found one, he ran it under the faucet and wrung it out before returning to Mello's side. Before the other boy could ask what he was doing, or protest the action, Matt began gently dabbing at Mello's eyes.

"It'll stop the swelling. Wouldn't want anyone to know you were cr-" Mello's venomous look shut him right up and he backpedaled, "that you had something in your eyes."

When he deemed the job done, he added, "You know, like tears."

He ran out of the bathroom before Mello could stand up, hoping that he'd play along. Sure enough, within a few seconds, Mello tackled him to the floor and pinned him there, grinning in victory.

"I was _not_ crying," he said, not easing up.

"Sure you weren't."

Matt guessed that Mello understood what he was doing. He wasn't dwelling on the fact that Mello had sunk low enough, no matter how momentary, to actually send himself to the bathroom to vomit, even if he didn't actually do so. He'd distracted Mello by caring and then immediately snapped him back to a sense of normalcy.

And while it wasn't a genius plan by any means, and both boys were in fact geniuses, it was a working plan, and that was enough.

"Okay, Mells, come on, it's two in the morning and I'm still tired."

Mello's smile widened but he got up, holding out his hand to help Matt to his feet. Once they were both standing, they returned to Matt's bed. Mello was already under the blanket by the time Matt even reached the mattress.

"Hurry up, you're slow and it's cold," Mello whined.

Matt rolled his eyes but complied and lay down, letting Mello fuss over the blanket and pillows before he got comfortable.

When silence had its hold over the room, their breathing evened out they quickly realized just how tired they were.

Mello fell asleep first, arm thrown loosely over Matt's waist, his other was tucked up close to his chest, fingers near his mouth. Matt took the opportunity to observe them. Mello's skin has always been a healthy tan shade, save for when he'd collapsed, but his index, middle, and ring fingers on his right hand looked slightly discolored. Though they'd evened out in the past months, Matt remembered that those nails were always shorter than the others.

It made sense though.

Matt slipped his hand into Mello's, running his thumb down the altered fingers. The other boy didn't stir and Matt just sighed before setting into sleep.

* * *

"No, you're stressing your syllables wrong, and you don't need to roll your 'r's' every time they show up," Mello said, throwing his eraser at Matt.

Their language instructor had given them dialogues to translate. Mello thought them useless as he was already fluent in Spanish, but he was helping Matt because he appeared to be utterly useless at learning new languages. In actuality, Matt had a pretty stable grasp on the language and only exaggerated his incompetence to keep Mello distracted.

"I'm not even trying to roll them!" Matt protested.

"You're hopeless, you know that, right?"

Matt only grinned cheekily.

They moved onto vocabulary words once Matt finished his dialogue and when they were done with that, Mello dragged him outside. It was uncharacteristically warm out, most of the kids decided to take advantage of the weather before it turned foul .

Matt had been keeping an eye on Mello's chocolate consumption. He was eating a lot more than Matt had hoped, putting away anywhere from five to ten bars a day, where Matt had projected two or three. With the inability to vomit as easily as before, Mello was gaining weight, which was good, but Matt knew that he wasn't happy about it.

The sessions with L via computer were still happening, they appeared to be working well. Mello found it easier to open up to his mentor, Matt thought it was because he couldn't actually see L and the man had already promised not to remove him from the running. Mello still crawled into his bed at night though, not like Matt was complaining or anything.

Come dinner time, Matt piggy backed Mello down the halls, more because he just wanted to carry him for the sake of carrying him rather than preventing microscopic calorie burning.

When they sat down, Matt watched as Mello began systematically cutting up and dividing his food.

"Hey, Mells?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Mello was currently attempting to cut a strawberry into eight equal pieces and Matt had to quell the urge to yell at him.

"We _are_ friends, right?"

Mello gave him a look that was part fury and part fear.

"I should hope so, given what's happened the past couple of years. Why do you ask?" his voice was steely, but there was an underlying tremor. Mello only got a tremor when he was about to cry.

"I just- I'm not sure," Matt huffed, "I mean, have I been helpful? I haven't been useless through all of this, have I?"

Deep down, Matt knew he'd helped, to some extent. He could have let Mello drown, but he'd dove in after him dragged him kicking and screaming back up. And, yes, he was Mello's friend, but he couldn't help but worry. He didn't want to lose Mello. If he did, he wouldn't know what to do.

So Matt did what he did best, he worried.

Mello's eyes softened and he patted Matt's hand across the table.

"Of course you've helped, Matty, you're not useless. If it weren't for you, I'd be in a hospital right now," as if to further the point, Mello ate a whole strawberry, disregarding the one he'd cut up into eighths.

Matt nodded and stared at his hand for a moment before finishing his food. He mentioned the up and coming test that would take place the following week, and he listened as Mello animatedly rambled on about how this time, this time, he would crush Near once and for all.

If Wammy's ranked the kids on their heart and devotion, Matt had no doubt that Mello would be number one, never to be beaten by anyone. Least of all Near.

* * *

While Mello talked with L that night, Matt dug in his nightstand for a small box.

Mello's birthday was coming up, he would be turning fourteen. Matt had seen the small cross that he carried, there was a small ring affixed to the top, but Mello must have lost the chain. It was hard to get work done with the blond practically glued to his side, but he managed a few beads every night.

Asking for Linda's help took even more stealth but she was more than happy to instruct him in the finer details.

It was really the first gift he'd gotten for Mello, in the past years the two of them hadn't thought much about gift exchanges, whether it be for birthdays or Christmas. Mello's gift was being less irate, Matt's was not playing his games as loud as he usually did.

To say he was worried that Mello wouldn't like it was an understatement.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the longest chapter so far, by nearly a thousand. It's also probably the sweetest chapter in this whole story, just tooth rotting-ly so. I would like to point out that I am an angst writer by trade and my ability to write fluff varies depending on my mood, but is generally low because I'm actually so out of tune with my own emotions that I don't know how to write happy stuff, but hopefully this suffices. This is kinda the chapter that kicks everything off and we are nearing the beginning of the canon plot.

Matt rolled out of Mello's tight grip and silently fell onto the floor.

It was the night before Mello's birthday and Matt had yet to finish the necklace. Luckily though, the blond had spent the entire day studying and had been drowsy and disoriented by midnight. With luck, he was out cold.

Matt grabbed a flashlight from the bedside drawer and clicked it on, holding it between his head and shoulder as his finger fumbled the box open. He was going to be more or less under the bed, working by the small yellow light to make the present. If Mello didn't appreciate the effort, Matt would choke him with the damn thing. Though, his greatest fear was that Mello wouldn't like it. He really hoped he would though. Mello was fickle, temperamental, and even Matt, who was his best friend, had a hard time predicting what he was going to do one hundred per cent of the time. Or even what he'd want for his birthday.

His first thought had been simple enough; give the boy a truckload of chocolate. But given the fact that the only time he wanted Mello to eat chocolate was when he was feeling low. The last thing Matt wanted to do was give him enough bars to go into a sugar coma. Next, he'd thought about a making a stress doll styled to look like Near. That way, Mello could pound out his anger on that instead of the real thing until he felt better. But then he got worried that Mello might just rip the doll to shreds. And if it didn't last, then what was the point?

But the necklace, surely that had to be a good idea.

It had to be.

Once properly under the bed, Matt set the flashlight between his teeth, trying to keep it steady as he fed the string into the beads. Linda's help had proven incredibly useful, it was probably because of it that the necklace didn't look like a five year old's macaroni art project. He'd gone to her again, when Mello got detention for bad mouthing the language teacher, and she gave him some supplies that would make the gift look more professional. Matt had gone so far as to carve an 'M' into the two beads that would touch the ring attached to the cross thing, he knew there was a technical name for it but he didn't remember what it was. If Mello bothered to look closely, he'd see them.

Matt wasn't counting on it though.

It took nearly an hour, but Matt had managed to finish the necklace part. He wormed is way out from under the bed and removed the flashlight from his mouth, wiping away the drool that had run down his chin. Careful not to wake Mello, he swiveled the light around the room. The cross thing was usually in Mello's pockets, when he wasn't running it through his fingers like a poker chip, but at night it was set on his bed side table. The table itself was usually unused, Mello really only kept old text books in the bottom drawer and note paper in the top. Unlike Matt, who had a variety of game devices and cartridges stacked up like uniform soldiers, as well as a small assortment of lock pick kits and various bits of computer parts.

Matt picked up the cross and grabbed a pair of pliers from his bed side table before hunkering down under the bed again.

He got the chain of the necklace attached to the small ring and used the pliers to set it properly. His shaking hands made the job harder but he was eventually satisfied with how it turned out. Linda had told him that what he was making wasn't exactly a 'necklace', but once again, he'd forgotten the proper name. At this point, his only concern was whether or not Mello would freak out.

Matt set the finished product in a small black box and set the lid on, tying a thick ribbon around it.

By that time, Mello had started stirring, despite it being three in the morning. Matt shoved the box into his drawer and hurried to get out from under the bed. As quietly as possible, he got under the covers, slipping an arm around Mello. As soon as he did so, Mello stopped moving and relaxed again. Matt heaved a quiet sigh of relief and fidgeted around to get comfortable.

Mello smelled like chocolate nowadays, that was to be expected, but there was always something else that Matt couldn't quite place. Regardless though, he liked it. He couldn't explain what exactly it was that attracted him to Mello, only that he was, attracted that is. Sighing, he pressed a quick kiss to Mello's forehead and closed his eyes.

He was woken the following morning by frantic noises. It sounded like a cross between an anxious chihuahua and a beached fish. Still half asleep, Matt struggled to sit up, rubbing his eyes.

"Mells," he slurred, "what's the matter?"

The boy in question was racing around the room like some sort of shirtless blond tornado and Matt had to force his eyes to Mello's face.

"I can't find it!" he shrieked, twisting his fingers into his hair and giving the strands a frustrated tug.

Matt's mouth dropped into an 'o' as he realized what it was that Mello was looking for. He hadn't anticipated Mello getting up so soon before him, and actually noting that his cross was missing. That was a pretty bad foul up on his part.

"Oh, about that," Matt began.

Mello froze and fixed his gaze on his friend. Fury danced in those glacier blue eyes and Matt tried to think of a way to smooth over the situation before he accidentally ruined Mello's birthday. He scurried out of bed and latched onto Mello's hand.

"Okay, so uh, sit down, and uh, first of all, happy fourteenth," he said, reaching into his drawer. He kept his eyes on Mello and was left to blindly grope around for the box. When he found it, he handed it to Mello and resigned himself to nervously wringing his hands.

Mello arched a brow and pulled the ribbon off the box.

"What does this have to do with my-"

"Just open the box, Mells," Matt urged, wincing as he bit too hard into his lip.

Mello rolled his eyes but removed the top and froze as he saw what was inside. Slowly, he pulled out the finished product, eyes wide. He was silent for several minutes as he inspected it. If he noticed the 'M's', he said nothing.

"You-you made this?" he asked quietly, eyes still fixed on the dull silver of the cross.

"Um, yeah, I noticed that there was a ring attached but you didn't have it on a chain or anything. I mean, if you don't like it then I can take it apart-"

There were arms around him in a second and Matt tensed up before he realized that Mello was in fact not choking but hugging him.

"Thank you," Mello whispered.

Matt took in a shuddering breath and brought his arms up to hug Mello back. The hug felt good. Hell, if felt _right_ to have Mello in his arms, hugging him while he hugged back.

"Yeah, no problem."

They stayed that way for only a few minutes but if felt like an eternity and neither was letting go just yet. Eventually though, Mello pulled back, keeping his hands on Matt's shoulders, the rosary clutched in one of them.

"For this," one of the hands shifted, apparently the one with the rosary, "and for everything else, you're my very best friend, and you're more than I deserve."

Matt was shocked.

Rarely did Mello turn heartfelt thoughts into words, he hid them behind scathing comments and emotional glances. Mello threw shoes and text books, smacked Matt's goggles against his face and made fun of his affinity for stripes. Mello wasn't one for straight up confessions. And though Matt wished that the confession was of a different kind, he wasn't one to miss an opportunity. Especially since he suspected that Mello wouldn't be repeating this scene anytime soon.

So he hugged Mello again, tight, no longer worried about crushing him because he was no longer as frail as he once was.

"You're my best friend too, Mells, and trust me, you deserve a lot better than me."

If Mello disagreed, and he probably did, if he said anything, Matt didn't notice, he was too busy cherishing the hug.

They didn't speak of it for the rest of the the day but it seemed that Matt had supplied enough good karma that nothing went wrong. They didn't cross paths with Near and Mello didn't pass out from exhaustion when he dove in for another study session. He only ate one bar of chocolate and that was because Linda gave it to him as a birthday present. It was high quality chocolate, Mello decided he wasn't going to waste it and it appeared that he actually was eating for enjoyment purposes.

Matt managed to get Mello to take a break from studying after dinner, it took a lot of pestering and begging but he was successful regardless.

It had been a while since they'd last climbed onto the roof, they'd simply not found the time and Matt was still pretty uneasy about going up. But he figured it would be his best bet.

The chilly December air forced them to huddle together but it hadn't snowed that day, so the roof wasn't slick or wet. The sun was still up, though it would be setting soon enough.

Mello was toying with the rosary beads, spinning them around and running them over his fingers. Matt took it as a sign that he was adjusting to having something around his neck again.

"L told me he's going to Japan," Mello said when the silence began to stretch on for too long.

"What case is he taking?"

"Kira."

"The criminals dying of random heart attacks?"

The top five received case updates from L, and the notice about the Kira case had only come the week previous. Frankly, everyone was baffled as to how the murderer was able to kill so many, and with heart attacks no less. They'd all formulated their own half baked theories. Mello and Matt had collaborated, but after analyzing the data that L sent, they figured it was absurd. Matt thought it sounded like something out of an old horror story.

"Mm," Mello's little noise of confirmation told Matt that Mello was going to say something else, "L said he won't be able to talk to me anymore, something about endangering us, and being busy."

There was another pause and Mello heaved out a sigh.

"So, I was wondering if I could talk to you instead."

Mello's gaze was fixed on the setting sun, though it was barely visible through the cloud cover. Matt sensed that there was something else to be gleaned from the request. Mello could have easily not brought it up, he didn't have to ask Matt, but he did.

"I don't mind," Matt said, tucking his knees up close to his chest.

"I figured you'd prefer that to me beating the hell out of Near. I swear, I'm gonna beat that sheep this time. It'll be like a good luck wish to L. Mello finally beats Near, tides change, he can beat the invisible enemy sort of thing, you know?"

Mello turned to Matt, a weak grin on his lips and Matt couldn't help but rock to his side a bit, setting his head on Mello's shoulder for a second before straightening up. It was something his little brother did when he was having a bad day, like a kitten playfully butting their head against a hand. It would get his attention and he'd look to see the twinkle in his brother's eyes, it made him feel a bit better back then.

He didn't know if it worked on Mello, because he didn't look at him, realizing what exactly he'd done at the last moment.

It was quiet again, the temperature dropping further. They made a silent decision to return to their room and began the slow descent to their window. Once inside, they each took a hot shower and dressed in pajamas. Matt took off his goggles and set them on his bed side table, rubbing his eyes and blinking to adjust to the non-tinted reality. Mello hung his rosary on Matt's bed post and burrowed under the comforter while Matt was in the bathroom brushing his teeth.

The pillows smelled like Matt, clean, with the underlying scent of duct tape residue and pine. He knew were the duct tape smell came from, Matt had the silver tape with him all the time, using it for projects, to fix torn wires or simply for playing with. But the pine? Matt didn't spend enough time outside to smell like pine. Mello supposed it was just a natural smell, who knew? Maybe Matt was just half pine tree, that would explain the stunning color of his eyes.

Shaking his head, Mello sighed and rubbed his eyes.

He managed to relax when the other side of the bed dipped down and he rolled over to face Matt. On a whim, Mello flicked him on his forehead. Matt scrunched up his nose and batted the offending hand away, chuckling good naturedly. Mello thought it nice to see his eyes light up, unobstructed by the orange wall of plastic he usually hid them behind.

"So, I'm you're new journal then?" Matt asked, propping himself up on his side.

That earned him another flick to the forehead but Mello nodded.

"How'd you and L usually do this?"

L would bluntly ask, then come up with followup questions based on Mello's answers. But he couldn't see Matt doing that, Matt didn't do blunt, at least, not like L. Matt spoke his mind, sure, but he was awfully good at holding his tongue. He was honest, but if a situation arose where he and Mello got in trouble, he'd lie like the devil. Matt was a book of contradictions, Mello was to though, so they were compatible in that sense.

"He would just ask, but it's different, he was wherever he was, and you're here so you know already," Mello mumbled, chewing on his lip. His hand gravitated to Matt's and the red head took a sudden interest in their entwined fingers.

"Just talk then," Matt said after a moment, "I may not be a twenty something detective with amazing deductive skills, but I'm me, so this'll work."

A small bubble of laughter burst from Mello's throat and he caught a warm look from Matt. He seemed extremely happy, or maybe he was content, for some reason.

The boys talked for an hour or so, Matt concentrating, attention completely devoted to Mello. The blond thought it endearing, given that the only other time he'd seen that sort of focus was when Matt was trying to beat a video game.

"Night, Mells," Matt flipped off the lamp and fluffed up his pillow, not yet ready to fall asleep.

"Night, Matty."

Mello slowed his breathing, forcing his mind to begin shutting down so he could get some sleep. He was half way there when he felt a pair of warm, but chapped, lips press to his forehead.

He didn't move, didn't falter in his breathing. He did, however, open his eyes.

Matt froze, still partially hovering over Mello, eyes locked on his, panic shining through.

"Um," Matt gulped, "goodnight kiss?"

Mello blinked, owlishly, trying to process what all was going on.

Matt finally found the will to move and he sat up, throwing the blanket back and swinging his legs over the side. He was ready to leave, to request a room change because no way would Mello trust him now.

A tug on his shirt sleeve made him pause, but he stayed where he was. The hand moved from his sleeve to wrap around his wrist, fingers curling and squeezing lightly.

"Turn around, you idiot," Mello's voice was a siren call and Matt listened, turning slowly to face him.

Unexpectedly, Mello's face was bright red, the blush even reached his ears. He was sitting up as well, balanced on his knees. He searched Matt's face, taking note of the strain in his eyes and the stiffness in his jaw.

"Mells," Matt's voice was full of something, something Mello had only heard when he collapsed.

_Fear._

Was he scared that Mello was going to reject him? Yell at him? Throw something at him? Most likely. Mello could make an educated guess, he wasn't second rank for nothing. Matt was an easy read when he decided not to internalize everything. And damn. They'd been sharing a bed for a couple years now. Mello had noticed the warmth in Matt's gazes and the fear that came when he reacted negatively to anything. The reciprocation had come later, and he still wasn't sure, but he did know that Matt was important to him.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Matt's.

"You worry too much," he whispered.

"It's what I do best," Matt responded automatically, nearly inaudible.

"I don't think so. What you do best is hack computers, play video games, and keep me grounded."

He paused, unsure if what he was about to do was really the best course of action. There were many problems that could arise if he did so, but there would likely be more if he didn't. He wasn't even entirely sure what he felt for Matt, what if he wasn't as sure as he thought? He wasn't exactly the most stable person, and he was surprised that Matt had even stuck with him for so long.

Hell with it, he thought.

Mello had heard stories about first kisses. How they were like fireworks, or electricity, how they were magical or life changing.

He wasn't sure about all that, but as he kissed Matt, all he felt was safe. He felt warmth in his chest and he felt whole, not like the empty thing he'd been for years before he'd met Matt. It was awkward to, underneath all that. Definitely a first for the both of them and it was really nothing more than an odd press of lips, but it was a kiss all the same.

Mello pulled back first, puzzled at seeing that Matt's eyes were still closed.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"If this is a dream, I'm not opening my eyes...ever."

Mello chewed on the inside of his cheek, allowing the thought to bounce around his head for a whole three seconds before he leaned in again and pressing a kiss to each of Matt's closed eyes.

"It's real you idiot," he mumbled once he'd pulled back again and settled himself on the bed, sitting cross legged instead of on his knees.

Matt cracked open one eye, and then the other, a euphoric grin spreading his lips as he brought a hand up to touch them.

"Come on, we have a test tomorrow, I need at least four hours of sleep," Mello said shortly, laying down and tugging Matt with him, lips pressed tightly together so he didn't say anything stupid like 'I love you'.

Matt, apparently, didn't have the same level of control. He snuggled right up to him, throwing an arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

"Love you, Mells."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another short chapter for New Year's Eve! This one is pretty sappy as well. Ironically enough, the next chapter is set on New Year's Eve but I'm an idiot and didn't realize that until today otherwise I would have worked a bit faster. I might have some spare time later today to get it up, so you all might get two chapters in a day!

Matt didn't bother trying to hid his anxiety as he took the test, constantly bouncing his knee and casting sideways glances to make sure Mello hadn't spontaneously combusted yet. Mello was beside him as always, teeth working away at his lips. The tip of the poor kid's tongue was stained red from licking away the blood that came when he dug a little too deep. Mello had been studying hard, had been studying until they walked into class and Matt hadn't had the heart to make him eat much more than a carton of yogurt at breakfast. The shining fervor in his eyes was evident enough, he had to beat Near this time. Had to this time more than ever because this score wasn't just for Mello, it was for L.

He suspected that Mello had another reason, but the boy had given nothing away, so Matt could only make an educated guess.

Near jumped down from his desk and handed his packet to the teacher, returning to his seat where he pulled his knee to his chest and bowed his head. Minutes later, Mello strode up and all but slammed his papers on the teacher's desk. Matt followed shortly, praying to the god that Mello believed in that this little miracle would occur without issue. Once all the tests for the day were completed, Mello and Matt were left to their own devices and they returned to their room, neither saying anything about what had transpired the night before.

It had been a thick silence for nearly ten minutes until Matt finished constructing his internal monologue. He'd not even finished drawing his breath when Mello beat him to it.

"If you're going to say something like, 'so are we dating' or 'does this make us boyfriends', I will hit you with a stapler," he deadpanned.

It took Matt a moment to process, he knew Mello was going to say more, but for the life of him he had no idea what.

"I think it's best that we just don't put a label on it," Mello decided, acting quickly and kissing Matt before his face got too red.

Matt lit up like a Christmas tree and threw his arms around Mello's neck, pressing their foreheads together.

"Thank you Mells," he whispered. Mello just rolled his eyes.

"I don't see why you're thanking me."

They passed the rest of the afternoon playing Mario Kart, yelling profanities at each other throughout. Matt won every game but Mello found he didn't mind as much because the red head would always smile at him when Mello crossed the finish line. He'd give him a quick kiss on the cheek before starting the next race.

Come dinner time, Matt's worry had returned. The only thing keeping him grounded was Mello's fingers laced in his. they lived in an orphanage full of geniuses, hiding their unnamed relationship would be futile. When they sat down, Linda gave them a thumbs up and smiled. Mello only scowled. He didn't really have anything against Linda. The younger girl was nice, talented, she'd bought him chocolate for his birthday, but she was number four. If she picked up her score, Matt might be out of the top three. That was something Mello would not stand for.

One of the teachers rolled out the cork board and began pinning the list of test scores to it. Matt watched out of the corner of his eye, knowing that all of Mello's attention was directed at those sheets of paper. When the teacher left, Mello raced over to the board. There were individual test results but Mello only had eyes for the final paper which displayed the overall.

_Near: 100%_

_Mello: 102%_

_Matt: 96%_

The room was frozen, no one dared to even breathe. Everyone's eyes were on Mello, waiting for his reaction. Matt's eyes drifted, trying to gauge the emotions floating through his friend's eyes. There was disbelief, euphoria, and a shadowy something that Matt couldn't place.

"I must congratulate you, it seems you've bested me at last, I shall take care to study harder the next time around, I believe it was the extra credit questions in the sciences that threw me off," Near seemed to materialize at Mello's side and held out a hand, eyeing him with the same disinterest that he did everything else.

To everyone's surprise, Mello shook Near's hand. No words passed between the two, only a calm look before Mello let go and propelled Matt from the room. Matt caught a fleeting glimpse of Near's face before Mello shoved him through the door.

Oh, so that's what had happened. Matt understood. Near had let Mello beat him this time, somehow he knew what it meant to Mello. How he knew though, Matt couldn't figure, but the kid wasn't number one for nothing. Matt did know one thing though and that was that Near wouldn't be repeating his little act of kindness ever again.

When the two got back to their room, Mello fell face first onto Matt's bed and stayed there for a few minutes.

"I did it," he breathed, voice muffled by the comforter.

Matt sat beside him and set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. He couldn't let Mello know that Near had let him win. For one, Mello would fly into a fit of rage and most likely beat Near within an inch of his life. And for two, which was something Matt really didn't want to think about, Mello might relapse, thinking that the only way he'd ever beat Near was if the situation was fixed.

Matt would not allow Mello to relapse, it wasn't an option.

"I did it," Mello repeated softly.

Somewhere, deep down, Mello had an inkling of a suspicion that Near had allowed him to win. Just this once. But he didn't allow himself to dwell on it. He refused to slip back down into the husk of a human he would undoubtedly become if he allowed those thoughts of unworthiness to come crawling back. No, no, relapse was not an option.

* * *

He still failed to see what it was that Matt saw in him.

What was there to love anyhow? he was volatile, proud, borderline dysfunctional and broken in all the wrong places. Yet, Matt had hugged all those pieces into place and kissed away the shadows that clawed at the back of his mind. Mello's particular brand of mental decay was hardly textbook. It took the form of whispering words. Words that Mika had warned him about, she had heard them to. Their mentality was filled with dark thoughts and thinness and warped visions in the mirrors. It was dramatized irrationality and self destructiveness. Mika had let it consumer her up until the moment she died. Mello had seen it tear her apart and he'd known that that was what would happen to him.

Mello cast his gaze to Matt, who sat mere inches away, tapping away on some game. His face was washed in the blue light from his game, making his eyes glow, he'd taken off his goggles off for once. Mello grinned and Matt happened to look up then. He winked and smiled back, and Mello ducked back to the safety of the comforter, refusing to let Matt see even a hint of red on his face. Matt was the only one who'd made him blush, ever, he was also the only one to make Mello second guess himself, and also make him feel better.

When it was time for lights out, Matt put away his game and they got dressed.

It was an accident, really, Mello picked up one of Matt's shirt and put it on, not noticing that it was too big until he was tugging up the sleeves. Not about to make a fool of himself, he slipped on a pair of his own pajama pants and acted as though putting on Matt's shirt was a conscious decision. Matt didn't say a word, only stared wide eyed as he realized what Mello as wearing.

"You should wear my clothes more often," he said, ignoring the fact that a wild fire blush was spreading across his face. He lifted up the covers for Mello and propped himself up.

"Thy're comfortable, maybe I will," Mello grinned, his own blush was fading as he snuggled into Matt's arms.

It had been some time since he'd felt this kind of comfort, to this degree. The last time had been Mika, when he'd sneak into her room at night and snuggle with her. She didn't have the same cushy comfort as Matt did. Her ribs protruded, and her elbows were knobby, she wasn't exactly a teddy bear. But when he was little, in his eyes, Mika was the strongest, she defended against his bad dreams and the evil whispers. Matt was different. He was warm and soft and _safe._

That's what Mello liked most.

He'd never been able to see himself in a relationship. Of any kind really. That dream had vanished the first time he stuck his fingers down his throat. The thought had retreated further when he was brought to Wammy's. L wouldn't have time for a relationship, romantic or platonic. The thought of having a friend flew out the window.

But then there was Matt, with his ridiculous goggles and bright eyes. There was Matt who had started off snarky and just as unapproachable as Mello until he stuck around long enough to see the absolute child hidden beneath all that. Now that he allowed himself to think about it, he'd probably always loved Matt, probably always would.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I meant to get this up earlier but for whatever reason my computer was wigging out. Happy belated New Year to all of you!

Mello woke the morning of New Year's Eve in a bleary sort of haze. Matt was curled up beside him, out cold and snoring lightly. He allowed a grin to grace his lips as he shifted to hold Matt a little tighter. When Matt had become so precious to him, Mello couldn't really place, but then again, he'd already admitted to always loving him. He owed it to him, owed him everything.

It was a good day, Mello didn't get many of those. Okay days were the most common, okay days meant waking up feel tired but cracking a smile when he saw Matt. Okay days meant squeezing the blood flow from Matt's hands in between classes and getting tired by lunch time. Okay days meant that when it was time for bed, he was the first the snuggle up to Matt. Okay days were spent pushing back against the voices that vied for a place in his thoughts.

But it was a good day.

With a quiet sigh, Mello pressed a kiss to Matt's forehead, letting his lips linger a moment longer before settling for closing his eyes and waiting for Matt to wake. When he finally did, it was close to nine thirty, two and a half hours past when Mello would usually sleep in.

"Morning," Matt yawned, kissing him before scampering out of bed and to the shower.

Mello rolled his eyes and slowly eased out of bed, rummaging through his side of the closet for a pair of jeans. Unlike usual, he'd had to shower the night before because Matt had seen fit to make cookies in the middle of the night. They'd had to sneak the keys from Roger's office, which was pretty easy given the amount of practice they'd had. Mello had just wanted some sleep but Matt had begged and he was slowly figuring out that he couldn't say no to the red head's pout. As it turned out, Matt was not the best baker and he'd gotten flour and cookie dough in Mello's hair. Sufficed to say, he'd already set his plan for retaliation in motion. Matt would find out when he got out of the shower.

Chuckling to himself, Mello slipped into his jeans and took off his nightshirt, debating between a long sleeve or a sweater. After a moment of indecision, he tugged on a wife beater and a long sleeve shirt before grabbing one of Matt's sweatshirts. He found his rosary on the bed post, where he always put it before going to sleep. Mello took a moment to run his fingers over the beads before putting it on and tucking it under his collar.

"Mello!" Matt's half angry half panicked shout set the blond off laughing.

Matt stormed out of the bathroom, towel around his shoulders, boxers on and hair a stunning shade of purple.

"I take it this is for the whole cookie thing last night?" he asked, propping his hands on his hips. Mello was too busy laughing to answer but Matt knew he was right.

Matt shoved him off the bed and curled up beneath the comforter, content to pout like a child. Mello wasn't even angry that Matt had pushed him. Once he stopped laughing he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Matty," he whispered, leaning in close to where he predicted Matt's head was under the blanket.

"What?"

Mello dropped his weight onto him, making sure to cage Matt in on all sides. Had it been the other way around, Mello would probably have had a hard time breathing, but he knew his weight was little more than nothing to the crybaby beneath the blanket.

"Mello!" Matt shouted, trying to wriggle out of the blankets.

Mello let out a quiet laugh as Matt managed to flip them over. The blanket was tangled between them and Matt grinned victoriously as Mello just rolled his eyes again.

"Ha," Matt said, brushing his nose against Mello's.

"See, not in such a bad mood now, are you? Besides, I think you look pretty damn good with purple hair," Mello bit back his laughter as Matt's face instantly flushed red.

"R-Really?" Matt choked.

"Yeah."

Every time Matt kissed him, Mello felt the pieces push closer together, he wasn't so shattered. Because each time Matt kissed him, it was an affirmation. He was wanted, despite it all, he was wanted. And while that certainly didn't fix him, he doubted he'd ever be completely fixed, but it certainly helped him feel a bit better about himself. Mello pressed up into Matt's lips and he could feel the boy grin. When Matt finally rolled off, he had to stop himself from grabbing him and yanking him back down.

Mello took a five minute nap while Matt finished getting dressed. He was grumbling the entire time and pulled a beanie over the worst of his impromptu dye job and snapped on his goggles. Fingers laced together, Mello had to withhold his grievances about the gloves separating their skin. They made their way off the Wammy's grounds, and down to the winding road that lead to the small town square a few miles away. They'd received permission from Roger, really it was more of a dismissive wave of his hand, but they took what they could get.

It was snowing, Mello was glad he was used to the cold, otherwise it'd be uncomfortable.

"Hey, Mells?" Matt asked after they'd been walking in comfortable silence for twenty minutes.

"Hmm?"

"How'd this happen?"Mello turned to get a better look at him. The hand not holding onto his was shoved in his pocket, eyes focused on the snow beneath his feet.

"How'd what happen?" he knew exactly what Matt was talking about.

"I dunno, us? I guess? I mean, I know you said-" Matt sighed, "We were best friends then we kissed and now we're in this nameless relationship that seems an awful lot like boyfriends to me but you decided to go nameless, so whatever-"

"I'm gonna kiss you now, if that's okay?"

Matt only managed a nod and a second after, Mello's chapped lips were on his.

"Does it really matter? That it's nameless," he asked once he pulled back and they continued walking.

"Well, no, I suppose not," Matt drawled, "but it'd be nice to know _something_ about this relationship, you know?"

"I know, Matty, I know."

When they reached the small town square, Mello pulled Matt into a sweets shop and pulled a small leather wallet from his pocket, procuring money that Matt hadn't known he'd had. After Mello had all but bought the store's entire supply of chocolate, he led them back out.

"Mells," Matt began worriedly.

"No, I'm not eating it because of that, thanks to you I've managed to start liking it again. Besides, I think it's a good day," Mello said quickly.

When Matt said nothing more, Mello turned to look at him.

An impossibly wide grin stretched his face and he threw his arms around Mello, causing the both of them to fall to the snow cushioned sidewalk.

"Matt!" Mello shouted, trying to get up before his clothes became wet.

"I'm so proud of you," Matt whispered, the thought of getting up the furthest thing from his mind.

He turned his face to Mello's neck and simply stayed there, no doubt crushing the boy beneath him. Of course, Matt had had a suspicion that Mello had started eating chocolate simply because he wanted to. But to hear the words directly from him? It made Matt feel- well, it made him feel something. Mello didn't move much beneath him, but his arms came up, one hand resting on the small of his back, the other on his head, fingers twisted into his hair.

They got a few looks from passersby, seeing as they were just lying in the snow, a blond and a boy with purple hair. But they ignored them. As far as they were concerned, it was just them, them and the snow.

When they finally did get up, Mello was soaked all up and down his back and the backs of his jeans. Matt however, having lain on top of Mello, was perfectly dry. Grumbling, Mello slipped out the sopping sweatshirt and turned it inside out, shivering slightly as the chilled air hit his damp arms and neck.

"Mello! You're gonna freeze," Matt began to panic.

"Whose fault is that? Calm down, Matty, I've been colder, this is nothing," Mello said, peeling off his gloves from extra measure, "But we should get back, wet denim isn't comfortable."

Matt let out a laugh and threw his arm around Mello's shoulders. To his surprise, Mello ducked under his open jacket and wrapped his arm around Matt's waist, pulling him close. Matt was a space heater, and Mello planned to take advantage of that.

"Do you think L should know?" Matt asked once Wammy's came into view.

"What brought this on?" Mello looked up, tightening his grip on Matt's waist.

"Well, the whole orphanage pretty much knows, not like we hide it. Maybe Roger told Wammy and he told L?"

"Nah, I don't think so, L's tackling Kira right now, hell, he actually went to Japan. I doubt they're going to inform him if successors two and three became romantically involved with each other."

"I suppose you're right," Matt conceded.

"Damn right I'm right, remember that."

* * *

Mello stripped out of his clothes and dug around for his pajamas. It was beginning to get dark, Matt was already dressed, sitting up against the headboard of his bed. They'd run into Linda upon their return and she'd coerced them into helping decorate the main room, after Mello changed out of his wet clothes, which had taken a little over an hour. Afterwards, they'd retreated to their room and lazed about.

"Hey, Mells?"

The blond was aware he was being watched as he changed but he ignored the fact, turning so Matt wouldn't see his blush.

"Yes?" he drew out the vowel, smoothing down his clothes and running a hand through his hair before sitting down beside Matt.

"What's your favorite color?"

"You're certainly chatty today," Mello pointed out, leaning against Matt's shoulder.

"Answer the question nerd," Matt rocked against him lightly.

"Green."

"Green?"

"Green."

Matt made an inquisitive noise.

"Green...like what?"

Oh yes, Matt knew exactly what Mello was thinking, that didn't mean he couldn't have fun.

"Green like green, idiot," Mello said, not quite sharp, and frankly, without any fire.

They asked each other mundane questions. Matt's reasoning was that they knew all the dark and dirty stuff but not the little things. He thought it important and though Mello would never admit it out loud, he agreed.

"Ten minutes to midnight," Matt pointed out.

Mello arched his brow, already having an inkling of what Matt was getting ready to say.

"So, during the countdown...are we gonna', uh, you know..."

"I'm sure, I have no idea what you're talking about," Mello said with a smile, shifting so he was sat closer.

"Damn it, Mells, don't make me say it!" Matt's face started heating up.

"Oh, so you're perfectly capable of talking about our relationship, but a little kiss gets you all flustered? Not even a kiss, just the prospect of a kiss," Mello teased.

"So you _do_ know what I was talking about!" Matt shouted indignantly, "Letting me flounder about, and you knew the entire time!"

"Hey, I'm not number two for nothing you know," Mello chuckled, laying down so his head was in Matt's lap. The boy's thighs were on the larger side, they made a good pillow.

"Well, thank goodness for that, I suppose," Matt muttered, checking the alarm clock, "Five minutes."

Mello just smiled. Matt played with his hair and he kept his eyes on the clock so he could time everything properly. At one minute to midnight, he sat up and dug in his nightstand for a box.

"What are you doing?" Matt asked.

"I didn't get you a Christmas present, so I figured I might as well do this now, because it's New Year's and all that," Mello said, opening the box.

Inside were two matching rings, not wedding rings by any means. They were both black, slightly blockish but faceted instead of smooth on the outside. Matt could see some sort of engraving on the inside of one of them. The rings were slightly worn, giving Matt the impression that Mello had had them for a while.

"Um, I don't know what's gonna happen, and I swear to God if you start crying, I'm gonna hit you, but I- you know I'm not sappy or romantic or anything, so don't expect anything like this ever again. It's just, uh, damn it, Matty. I love you, okay? And I just, I want you to know that, so take the damn thing."

Mello pulled out the ring with the engraving and held out his hand for Matt's. Coincidentally, it fit over Matt's ring finger and then Mello put on his own ring.

"Hey, Mells?" Matt asked quietly, leaning closer.

"Hmm?"

"I love you to," Matt closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Mello's.

He should have seen it coming, really, but he was surprised nonetheless. He allowed the warmth from Matt's body to envelope him and he wrapped his arms the red head's neck.

When Matt pulled back, he had a dorky grin on his hips.

"Happy New Year, blondie," he whispered.

"I'd make a witty retort to counter, but your purple hair is enough," Mello chuckled.

Matt rolled his eyes and eased back onto the bed, pulling Mello down with him. He landed with a barely audible 'oof' but curled up to Matt, ringed hand searching. He clasped their fingers together and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Hey, Mells," Matt whispered at close to one in the morning.

"What is it?" Mello was half way to sleep and he planned to stay there.

"Where'd you get the rings?"

Mello was quiet for a minute or so, dragging himself back to proper consciousness.

"When I was younger, Mika would tell me stories about how she used to dream about falling in love. But she became so obsessed with her body that it all flew out of the window. It was before she died, about a month before, she took me to this little jewelry shop and she said, 'I want you to find something here, buy two of them, and when you grow up, if you find someone to love and who loves you after knowing everything, give it to them,' so I did. I got two rings and I kept them in that box for years. When Mika died, I threw them out but then spent nearly four hours digging through the snow to find them. And then I found you."

Matt wrapped him up in his arms, squeezing his body tight.

"Mello," his voice was nearly inaudible.

"Mihael," Mello said quickly, nearly as quiet.

"What"

"Mihael, my name's Mihael, Mika used to call me Mihi."

Silence ruled over the room and Matt exhaled slowly, tiredly.

"I'm Mail."

"Well then, I love you, Mail."

"And I love you to, Mihael."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I start school tomorrow so we'll be going back to the one chapter a week upload deal. On the bright side, this story is little over half way through! I don't really have much to say now so read on!
> 
> Warning: Excessive Swearing

Matt tried not to cry. One of his hands was rubbing up and down Mello's back, the other holding his hair back loosely. With every dry heave, he flinched and bit his lip to keep his sobs from being audible.

Mello wasn't forcing himself to vomit though, that was the only saving grace Matt had at the moment.

They'd been sleeping, Mello safe in Matt's arms. At around one in the morning, Mello had started thrashing. When he woke, it was with a scream. His hair clung to his face, sweat making it stick, his breathing was shallow, eyes wide. Before Matt could ask what was wrong, Mello had bolted into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door behind him. He'd collapsed in front of the toilet, one hand braced on the floor, the other on the side of the bowl. Matt had followed a second after, fearing the worse.

But it seemed that whatever Mello had dreamed, had really just made him sick. Which was still worrying of course, but at least he hadn't relapsed.

Finally, after what seemed like years, Mello leaned back. A shaky hand closed the lid and flushed away the contents of his stomach. Matt helped him sit on the edge of the bathtub and puled a washcloth from the drawer beneath the sink. Wetting it with cold water, he carefully dabbed at Mello's face. When he was more or less cleaned up, Matt got his toothbrush and helped him wash the taste of stomach acid from his mouth. Mello managed to get up on his own and drank some water from the tap before putting his arms around Matt and convulsing into body wracking sobs.

Matt led him back to their bed, when Matt's bed had become 'their' bed, he wasn't sure, and he helped Mello ease onto the mattress. Without a word, Matt crawled over him and opened up his arms, noting the moment that Mello hesitated to roll into them. When they were both comfortable, Matt began to run a hand up and down Mello's back.

"You wanna' talk about it?" Matt asked after a minute or two, when Mello seemed at least a tad bit more in control of himself.

"No."

Matt didn't press the issue, but if it happened again, then he was definitely going to. The both of them kept quiet, neither of them sleeping or moving.

When it came time to get up, Matt let Mello have the shower first. The boy took a little longer but he hadn't turned on the fan, and that meant he wasn't trying to make himself throw anything else up. Matt didn't bother with a shower, only got dressed, offering one of his hoodies to Mello, in hopes it would help in some way, shape or form. By the time they were both dressed, Matt could see that it was going to be a very long day for Mello. He was curled up on the bed, head buried in the pillow.

"I'll get you a plate, be back in a minute, okay?" he offered when Mello made no move to get up.

He didn't get a response.

Matt returned seven minutes later with two cups of orange juice, some toast and two yogurt cartons. He sat down next to Mello and set the cups on the bed side table. Since Mello had yet to move, Matt pulled him up into a sitting position and held a piece of toast in front of his face.

"Mells, please?"

Mello turned towards him, the conflict evident in his eyes, and Matt almost started crying again.

It wasn't fair. They'd come so far. Mello was eating at least a little more than half of each meal, and when he worked out it was moderate, one or two jogging laps around the property. He had more okay days, and some good days, and overall, when he was low, he wasn't as low as he used to be. He ate chocolate now because he enjoyed it. And he was so close to beating Near, the only difference between them now was one or two points.

Of course, Matt had noticed that Mello was a little more terse than usual. He'd chalked it up to Near, but now, it was easy to see that something else was wriggling under Mello's skin.

"Mells, what's going on?"

Matt put down the toast and set his hand on Mello's shoulder. His thumb came up to Mello's neck, brushing along his jaw.

"Mello."

Finally, he looked up, icy blue eyes sealed off and cold. One of his hands joined Matt's and he leaned into it before shifting forward to kiss Matt's cheek.

"I'm fine, Matty," Mello picked up the discarded toast and nibbled on one of the corners.

* * *

Linda sat with Matt out in the hallway, nervously chewing on the end of one of her pigtails.

"What do you think they're talking about?" she asked.

They'd been in the middle of a Japanese lesson when one of the teachers had popped in and asked for Mello and Near to head to Roger's office as soon as the lesson was over. Matt had had a bad feeling once the classroom door shut and he'd reached across his desk to squeeze Mello's hand.

While he and Linda weren't exactly friends, she had helped him with Mello's necklace, everyone at Wammy's loved her to death. She was only a little younger than Matt, closer to Near's age, but everyone thought of her as the Mama Bear, even the older kids. Plus, she was a pretty kick ass artist in Matt's eyes.

Matt had walked with Mello to the office and sat out in the hallway. Linda found him less than a minute after the door closed and sat down beside him without a word.

"It's probably about L," he said quietly.

That was the main reason that Matt was worried. If L had made a decision as to who his successor was going to be this early on, then he must be feeling as though he might not have long left. Also, if L chose Near, and Matt was almost certain that he would, Mello might just tip headfirst into the deep end. It was definitely trying being Mello's boyfriend, even if Mello never said that that's what they were, but Matt liked to think that was the case. Especially as of late. Mello had been getting more volatile, a little colder. But he still cuddled up to Matt, they still slept together, Mello still wore his clothes sometimes. But Mello had taken to twisting his rosary beads and waking up in a cold sweat.

It put Matt on edge.

A sudden shout broke the peace in the hallway and Matt tensed immediately. Linda stopped chewing on her hair and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Something's wrong," Matt whispered. He couldn't hear exactly what was being said, despite the fact that Mello was yelling. Near never raised his voice above the tone of a polite conversation.

The door opened and Mello was nothing but a black blur as he bolted from the room. Matt was shocked and it took him a moment to actually stand. He took a stumbling step, preparing to go after him, but Near stepped out into the doorway.

"I cannot say as to how Mello will be acting from now own, but I suggest you tread carefully."

With his cryptic message delivered, Near shuffled off and Matt broke into a run after Mello. He wasn't in their room and Matt ran a hand through hair, yanking lightly.

"Calm down, Matt, he's around here somewhere, just chill out, you gotta' find him, focus. You're number three, damn it, where would he go?"

The roof.

He'd not thought anything of the open window, but he should have. Carefully, he got himself out and climbed up to the roof. Sure enough, Mello lay there, blond hair spread out in a dull halo about his head.

Mello didn't so much as twitch when Matt sat next to him. His eyes looked dead, focused on the rapidly darkening sky. Silence washed over them, thick and heavy, and Matt didn't know how he was supposed to break it. He could just go head on, ask what was wrong. But there was a chance that he already knew what was wrong.

Maybe L chose Near.

Mello's left hand was on his rosary, lightly thumbing the beads engraved with Matt's hidden 'm's'. So Matt took Mello's right hand, squeezing lightly as he laced their fingers together. Again, Mello never moved.

After an hour of fear invoked silence, Matt slowly began inching towards the edge of the roof. Mello complied, his eyes still fixed rigidly anywhere but Matt. He went down first, climbing at a snail's pace so he could keep an eye on Mello. When Matt got through the window, he nearly died, yanking Mello through because the blond missed a handhold. Breathing heavily, holding Mello to his chest, Matt dragged him towards their bed and sat down, shifting until Mello was settled in his lap.

Mello had always been small. When they spooned, he was always the little one. Matt liked that, he could hold him and feel like he was the security blanket. He wasn't quite sure if he was an effective security blanket now though. Mello wasn't responding.

Well, if mollycoddling wasn't going to work, Matt would just have to try a different approach.

"Mello!" he said sternly, forcing the blond to face him, jolting his body slightly.

After a second, Mello blinked.

Then he scowled and got up. Eyes wide and mouth agape, Matt watched as Mello stalked over to his own bed and burrowed under the blanket. Mello hardly ever slept in his own bed, only when he fell asleep studying.

"Mello, what the hell happened?" he asked, preparing to stand and rip the blanket off the blond.

"Go away, Matt," Mello said, his voice was a steel trap and Matt flinched.

"No," he pressed, mustering up the particular cold strength he'd lost when he'd slipped into his friendship with Mello, "What the hell happened in there?"

"Don't fucking worry about it," came the muffled voice beneath the blanket.

Matt felt an unfamiliar flint strike of anger in his stomach. Anger wasn't his thing, it was Mello's. why was he angry? Because Mello wasn't telling him what happened? Or was he just angry with the situation? With Mello himself? No way, there was no way he could be mad at Mello.

Could he?

"Mells, please, I just want to know what happened," he tried, quelling the unfamiliar anger as he made to move closer.

"I swear to god, Matt, if you take another step I'm kicking you out."

"Did L pick Near? is that what happened? Is that why you're freaking out. That doesn't mean anything, Mello! You're not worth any less if you can't-"

The blanket was thrown back and Matt was convinced he was staring into the very face of death. Anger shone in Mello's pretty blue eyes but a strange mixture of anguish and fury twisted his features into something that made Matt fall back onto his bed.

'L is dead, Matt! Kira fucking killed him and he never picked a successor!"

Matt felt his eyelids drop. When they opened again, Mello was still staring. But at this point, angry tears were streaming down his face and the harsh angles of his expression began to soften as his resolved crumbled.

Numbly, Matt stood up and took the few steps to Mello, pulling him into a hug.

"Get off me! Matt, damn it! Let go!"

Despite his best attempts, Mello stayed put and Matt slowly pulled him towards his bed. He refused to let him go. Even as Mello cried and kicked and shouted obscenities at him, even as he beat on Matt's chest and threatened to break his fingers. Matt held on until Mello's tears stopped.

When the news finally sunk in, it was eleven forty two, and their room was pitch black.

Matt closed his eyes, Mello had somehow managed to get his goggles off, and dropped his head. Mello smelled like tears and chocolate, and Matt tightened his grip ever so slightly.

He wasn't sure if Mello was sleeping yet, his eyes were closed, his breathing even. But his genius ended there, his brain was short circuiting. L was dead? Kira won? There was no successor? What happened now? Would they work together? No, Mello would never work with Near. The other boy was probably open to the idea, but Mello? No way in hell would he even consider it.

How had Kira even gotten the drop on L anyways? L was the greatest detective anywhere, since forever. he was a genius, an odd one granted, but then again, what genius wasn't? How had Kira won? L was careful, calculating, it didn't make any sense. Matt didn't even want to think about it, or rather, didn't want to think about the effects it would have on Mello.

No successor and a dead L meant that all Mello had worked for was pretty much down the drain. He had worked so very hard to beat Near and now the run had been pulled right out form under him. How would Mello act when he woke up? Would he start another fit of swearing and physical brutality? Or would he go after Near?

Matt took a deep breath, it was almost one o' clock and he was tired. So, with Mello still tucked in his arms, he fell asleep.

It was at that time that Mello extracted himself from Matt's arms. He stood up, silent, and began putting together a bag. He packed all his money, some hygiene products, a sparse few clothing items, a few chocolate bars, Matt's handcuffs and a few of the boy's shirts. There was small box beneath his bed full of documents from the Kira case.

Mello paused to look at Matt. The boy looked drained, Mello couldn't blame him, he was hell fury in a tiny blond package and he loved Matt for sticking with him for so long. On a whim, he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. quickly, he scribbled a short message and folded it up, leaving it against the lamp. He bent low and pressed a kiss to Matt's forehead.

"Bye Matt."

Mello pulled on a jacket and his shoes and slipped out the window. He climbed down, trusting his memory of the handholds so he wouldn't fall. On the east side of the property, there was a low branch that hung over the gate. Mello climbed up and over and made his way off the property.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First week back at school and I'm ready to die. In other news, this story is picking up speed! We've got Linda in this chapter, because honestly, I love her to death and she'll be showing up in later chapters as well. I'd like to preface this chapter by saying I took some liberties with Matt's grieving process, I tend to write Matt's personality based on Pre and Post Mello, simply because I like to think that Mello compliments Matt's character and now that he's gone, Matt's character changes. But, that's just my opinion, one of the great things about Matt is that he doesn't have a lot of development in the manga or anime so that leaves me to my own devices.
> 
> Also, this chapter includes itty bitty details that came from the L.A.B.B. Murder Case story, Chapter 13: How to Read, and the Death Note Relight Movies, number 2 I think. It's not like you gotta know what they are, but I suggest checking them out if you've not read/seen them before, they're pretty damn cool. Okay, I'll shut up, read on!

Matt peeked over the couch as the front door opened. Roger stood there, looking tired and thoroughly disgruntled. A small blond girl stood beside him, head down and hands shoved deep into her pockets.

"This way," Roger said, already moving down the hall. His long strides left the girl behind but she easily caught up with him, lengthening her own strides, nearly running.

Matt didn't find the girl all that interesting so he went back to his game. He was wedged between the wall and the couch, hiding. Roger had been nagging him to go to his morning classes, but he didn't want to. He was number one, what purpose did boring classes serve?

It was about an hour later that he heard Roger walking towards the couch. He didn't bother diverting his attention from his game.

"Matt, come on out," the old man called.

"Who snitched?" he asked, still staring through orange lenses at the Charmander on his screen.

"That would be Linda," Roger droned.

With a sigh, Matt paused his game and jumped over the back of the couch, landing on the cushion and bouncing up and onto his feet. He noted the blond girl leaning against the wall to his left. She wore all black, loose pants and a sweater like shirt. Her head was still tipped forward, her hair obscuring the majority of her face.

"Matt, this is Mello, our newest addition, he'll be your roommate, show him around."

That said, Roger washed his hands of the two and retreated to his office, most likely to marvel at his ant farm, or read an entomology textbook.

Matt didn't want a roommate, he'd been perfectly fine on his own. It was unfair really, he shouldn't have to share a room. Especially not with a girl-

"Wait, what?" Matt did a double take, moving a half step closer to the girl.

As it was, the girl was a boy.

A boy with a very feminine physique and delicate cheek bones. His eyes were a gunmetal blue, sharp and dangerous in a way Matt didn't think eyes were supposed to be. His gaze darted about the boy, trusting his goggles to hide his eyes. Mello didn't seem to have an ounce of baby fat on him, Matt assumed they were the same age, and he found that odd. Though, if Matt was guessing based on presence, Mello was somewhere in between War General and Hard Core Ballerina.

"I'm Matt," he said stupidly.

"Yeah, I know, Roger said that. What's with the goggles?"

Matt decided that he disliked the boy.

"What's with the haircut?" he replied.

Mello scoffed and eased off the wall, moving towards Matt like he was gliding across the ancient carpet. Much closer now, Matt figured Mello was only two centimeters shorter. He was proud of himself for not flinching when Mello lifted up his goggles. They stared, neither of them blinking or moving. Mello didn't let the goggles snap back, rather resettled them exactly as they were before. He took a step back and began chuckling.

"What's so funny?" Matt snapped.

Mello looked up through prim bangs and his laughter subsided, becoming an easy smirk.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing."

* * *

Matt woke with the sense that something was wrong. He wanted to go back to sleep, he was tired, but he woke anyways, blinking slowly. His sleep addled mind prevented him from registering the absence of a certain blond. It wasn't until he put his goggles on and swung his legs over the side of the bed that he realized he'd not been stopped by thin fingers tugging at his shirt.

Mello wasn't in the room with him.

His rosary was gone, the sheets on his side of the bed weren't even wrinkled. His boots, the ones Matt always tripped on because Mello left them lying in the middle of the room, were missing to.

"Mello!"

Matt scrambled out of bed completely, running to the bathroom, as if expecting Mello to be there. He wasn't. So Matt ran out into the hallway, grabbing anyone and everyone by their shoulders, asking if they'd seen Mello. Linda met him in the middle of the hallway, apparently having been woken by all the noise he was making. For how sweet Linda was, Matt should have guess she would look like the devil incarnate if she was woken unexpectedly. But that was the last thing on his mind.

"Have you seen Mello?" he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her lightly when she didn't respond immediately. The anger drained from her face in an instant and she shook her head, gently removing his hands from her shoulders and giving them a small squeeze before walking away.

Matt finally put everything together, the last of his sleepy confusion slipping away. He turned on his heel and shuffled back to his dorm, hands shaking slightly.

Now that his brain was running properly, he surveyed the room. Yes, Mello's rosary was gone, as were a few of the chocolate bars, Mello's wallet and a few of his clothes. Strangely enough, Matt realized that Mello had taken three of his shirts, and the handcuffs. His eyes drifted to a piece of paper against the lamp and he held his breath.

He could barely get the paper unfolded and he balled his hands into fists until his fingers stopped shaking.

_Matty,_

_I have to do this, I'm sorry for leaving you but I don't want you involved in this._

Matt stared at the page and let it flutter back onto the bed side table. He tore his goggles off and threw them across the room where they hit the wall. He paid no mind to the hot tears already racing down his cheeks. He didn't think about the fact that Mello's side of the bed was freezing. He ignored the rational part of his mind that was yelling at him to 'just calm the fuck down' and he kicked the wall. His fingers wound their way into his hair as his breath sped up, his heart trying its best to break out of his chest.

With a sharp breath, he yanked on his hair, attempting to force himself to calm down. The emotional portion of his brain, which Matt kept under lock and key because it housed his doubt and fear and insecurities about everything, unlocked the floodgate and he dropped onto the bed.

He couldn't make sense of what was going on in his head. Too many emotions floated about, too much chaos. He was sad, certainly, afraid.

He was angry.

Mello was gone. He left Matt with a note, of all the things he could have done, a _note_. There was an extremely high possibility that Mello would die, that Kira would kill him and Matt would never see him again. There was an almost one hundred per cent possibility that Mello would end up relapsing and Matt wouldn't be there for him. He was angry because Mello was being so stupid. How could he?

Matt had been able to help him. He'd been useful.

But now, Mello was gone, Matt wasn't with him and that meant he was useless.

* * *

The walk into town was quiet.

After taking a shower Matt sorted himself out as best he could. He was somewhat embarrassed with his outburst. It was unwarranted, and he'd found Linda and apologized for their morning encounter. It was almost too easy, to slip into who he'd been before Mello. It would have scared him if he'd not locked up his fear with everything else.

Roger had given him permission to go to the town by himself, his destination was the sweets shop that Mello nearly bought out of stock whenever they came. The bell on the door jingled and Matt glared at it from behind his goggles. The owner looked up and Matt could tell there was at least a spark of recognition, no matter how orange tinted it was.

"Has my friend passed through here recently?" Matt asked. Pictures were forbidden, and he wasn't about to have Linda draw Mello's portrait. If these people remembered him, great, if not, Matt would move on.

"The blond?" the owner tapped on the counter as he thought but eventually shook his head.

"Are you sure?"

"I am."

Matt nodded and left without another word. He tried to refrain from asking too many people, only those that had the greatest chance of remembering Mello. It wasn't like they frequented the town, that would be stupid. But there were a few shops they habitually visited on the rare occasion that Roger allowed them to go.

Having made absolutely zero progress, Matt began to walk around.

He didn't want to look at the sky, it was blue, and he avoided looking at his hands, hands that should be clasped in another's; he buried them in his pockets instead. Matt avoided thinking about anything really. Anything that might make him cry in the middle of the semi-busy sidewalk.

Once the sun began to set, Matt made his way back. He was in no hurry. If the main gate was locked then he'd simply stay outside and wait until it was unlocked in the morning.

Luckily for Matt, the gate was still open.

He scaled the outside of the building, relying on muscle memory because no way in hell did he need to remember all the times he'd climbed up with another. When he got to the roof, he passed the space above his dorm window and settled down a little ways off.

Getting a hold of cigarettes had been difficult. He remembered his mom smoking on their front porch, he'd watched her in rapt fascination through the window because she refused to smoke with him in the same room. Despite knowing the detrimental affects back then, Matt had been curious and he'd stolen one from her pack, smoking it behind the house when she stepped out to talk to a friend. He'd nearly hacked up a lung that first time but he'd offered to do homework for a Junior High boy who taught him how to do it properly.

It wasn't like he made it a habit though, he was, what, nine or ten or- hell, he didn't even remember anymore. Regardless, he'd done a good enough job that Roger didn't suspect anything. He lit the cigarette and slipped the lighter back into his pocket, sighing contently.

To be honest, Matt had forgotten about it when Mello arrived. But now that he was gone, Matt was back at square one.

Square one made him tired, very tired.

Every time he slept, his dreams would go one way or the other. Either his brain would procure happy memories in hopes of making him feel better or it would create horrific scenes of Mello's death. The former was the most common, but there was something about dreaming of Mello and then waking up without him that made Matt decide that sleeplessness was easier.

Which wasn't to say he didn't like the nice dreams. In most of them, Mello was smiling. He was healthy and he glowed like the angel Matt knew he was. In his dreams, Mello was happy and Matt felt like everything was okay until he remembered that Mello left. That he'd gone off on some suicide mission.

And he'd left Matt behind.

With a scoff, he ground the cigarette into the roof and walked back to the ledge above his room. Climbing down wasn't an issue, pulling himself through the window even less so. However, staring at the bed as he passed by it to sit in the corner took a monumental amount of energy. He kicked off his shoes and slipped out of his vest and setting to the side before removing his goggles. Tucking his legs up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around his knees and squeezed until a dull throb made itself known near his inner elbow.

It was a sound enough method. His back was curved just verging on uncomfortable, and as the night wore on, his compacted body would begin to hurt, forcing him to stay awake.

However, it was his fourth consecutive night without sleep, so he was bound to drift off eventually.

His eyes drooped shut around midnight and he knew his dream wouldn't be a happy one.

Dream Mello wasn't smiling, his cheeks were hollow and Matt could count his ribs through the thin undershirt he wore. He was just out of reach, standing up straight but swaying, head bowed and hands buried in the pockets of over sized basketball shorts. Occasionally, Dream Mello would turn slightly, just so his eyes would meet Matt's and the tiniest of smirks could be seen on his lips. For every step Matt took towards him, Dream Mello took a step back and after a couple hundred steps Matt realized that Dream Mello was shaking with the effort it took to move so he stayed still.

That morning, Matt threw an English to Japanese dictionary out the window and it nearly hit a younger boy in the head.

* * *

Linda peeked into Matt's room. For his own safety, Roger had gotten the door unhinged. Matt had pitched a fit about it but only recently stopped fighting.

"Hey, Matt, it's time for dinner," she tugged on her left pigtail, resisting the urge to chew on her hair. Ever since Mello left, Matt had slipped back into how he was before; disinterested, standoffish yet snappy, and cold. He even got into fights, not a lot but enough, and when he wasn't doing that, he was on the roof playing one of his games. She knew he was smoking up there as well but she wasn't a snitch so she didn't say anything to Roger.

She got no response so she entered the room, letting go of her hair in favor of wringing her hands together.

Matt's half of the room was a mess. The floor was covered in diagrams of computer software, clothes, and technical books. Little tabs of duct tape dotted the room. Mello's side of the room, however, hadn't changed, still perfect. Matt refused to sleep in either bed and Linda had seen him sleep curled up in the corner or sprawled on the floor in front of Mello's bed.

If he slept at all.

Personally, Linda thought that Matt needed to pull himself together. Everyone knew the two were in some kind of romantic relationship, even if it didn't seem like it at times, but she felt that Matt was going a little too far. Yes, Mello had left him, but it was likely for a good reason, and it certainly didn't warrant the amount of effort Linda put into forcing Matt into some semblance of a regular schedule. But she wasn't going to judge him, she'd done her best to help but Matt was hands down the most stubborn kid she'd ever met.

"Matt, come on, I know you haven't eaten in the past thirty six hours," she stepped farther in and noticed the open window.

Leaving the room, Linda hurried down to Roger's office, giving in and chewing on the end of her pigtail. She knocked twice and didn't bother waiting for a response before walking in. Matt's door was against a bare space of wall and Roger sat at his desk, looking at a book.

"Matt's on the roof again, sir," she reported.

"Then get him down," Roger huffed.

"Uh, sir, the last time you sent someone up, Matt almost kicked them off. Besides, I can't climb."

Roger sighed and it was silent until he gave Linda a tired but pitying look over the top of his book.

"Just leave him then."

Linda nodded and left, closing the door behind her. She made her way to Near's room and the two walked to dinner together. Linda sketched as she ate, Near had asked her the day previous if she could draw him a robot. She and Near weren't exactly friends, but the boy was good company in an odd sort of way.

"I will be going away soon," Near said suddenly.

"You'll be taking over as L?" she asked tentatively, reading between the lines. She'd never actually met L, only the top three had that privilege. But she did remember talking to the detective through the computer. That had been back when BB was still at Wammy's, Linda remembered him, remembered finding him in one of the bathrooms changing his face with makeup. She'd asked him why he was doing such a thing and his response was that he wanted to look like L. Linda could faintly remember what that face looked like, she doubted it was accurate though.

"No, not at all. I won't be L, that would be a disgrace to his name, but I will be heading an investigative task force against Kira," he said.

Linda nodded slowly and put down her pencil.

"Hey, Near?"

"Yes, Linda?"

"Do you think Mello's all right? I know you know that Matt's been, well, he's been-"

"I am aware of what you are referring to," Near paused, as if choosing his next words carefully, "I am sure that Mello is well, however, I would not be surprised should I see him again soon."

Linda thought the statement somewhat unsettling but she nodded anyways and finished Near's drawing. She excused herself and collected a plate for Matt. It was likely that he wouldn't eat it, but it was worth a shot. Matt was most likely still on the roof so she set the plate on the bed side table and approached the window.

"Hey, Matt? I got a dinner plate for you, try to eat some, okay?"

Knowing she wouldn't get a response, Linda left.

Now, Linda was only number four, and she had no particular urge to be a detective, so it was understandable that she didn't notice. Didn't notice that Matt's boots were missing, along with some of the clutter from the floor. She didn't notice that the note Matt always kept on the dresser was nowhere in sight.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick, we've got another mention of the ever lovely Beyond Birthday here and given that we know relatively little about him, and A as well, I took liberties through Matt's analysis of the two. And also, I just like the idea of A being a girl, so any inclusion and characterization of A and B are pretty much my own self indulgent headcanons, so there's that. If I remembered correctly, this should be the last allusion to the L.A.B.B. Murder Case story, just to get that out of the way.
> 
> Okay, so, we've got eleven chapters left, do what you will with that information. If Chapter Nineteen isn't up tomorrow, it will be next Friday.
> 
> Warning: Mentioned Suicide

The apartment was small, made even more so because of the clutter. Various piles of computer parts dotted the floor and the tabletops were home to overflowing ashtrays. Half empty mugs of coffee sat beside a burning laptop and a barely used cellphone. The air smelled of cigarettes, the smell having seeped into the walls and sparse furniture, a young man was currently smoking one, lazing about on the worn couch. Could he afford better than a rundown apartment? Of course. His cash supply was steady and wouldn't run out any time soon, but it was better to stay out of the way.

Out of sight out of mind after all.

But he probably should make an attempt at cleaning up, seeing as the last time he properly cleaned his apartment had been three weeks ago.

Matt pushed himself up, groaning softly as his back cracked. He was gangly now, having hit the final stretch of his growth spurt. He'd gotten thinner though, it was hard to gain weight when he didn't consume much more than coffee, the occasional sandwich, or takeout. It also helped that when he was exceptionally wound up, he'd run until he passed out in some alley way and had to drag his ass home before he got shanked.

He ground out his cigarette and trudged into the kitchen, pulling a garbage bag from beneath the sink. As he began emptying out the ashtrays, Matt sighed.

He seemed to be doing that a lot. Ever since he left Wammy's, in fact. Wake up, sigh. Get out of the shower, sigh. Accept a hack job for the month's rent, extra long sigh. Sigh, sigh, sigh. Matt's world was an orange tinted mess of fatigue and the urge to throw himself down onto whatever horizontal surface was closest and just smother himself.

After leaving Wammy's, Matt had opted to sneak aboard a shipping boat headed for the U.S. instead of taking a plane because he obviously had no passport and he hated the very idea of flying. That and it was kind of hard to trace someone who'd stolen away on a cargo ship. Although, what with the fiasco around L's Death and Near stepping up, Matt didn't think anyone had even bothered looking for him. Regardless, he'd stowed away, surprised to find a German girl who'd apparently had the same idea as him. Apparently, the girl was running from some branch Mafia. Matt's German was passable at best and the girl spoke broken English. After an awkward transitional hour, they began talking, hidden by boxes and storage units.

Matt had enjoyed that. The girl hadn't known anything about him, and he'd known nothing about her. There was no baggage. She wasn't bothered by his cigarette smoke, when he chanced lighting one, and asked him about his goggles. She liked racing games so when they parted ways, he gave her his spare handheld. He'd siphoned money from various accounts before leaving and took the girl to the nearest ATM to turn it into hard cash. She'd tried to refuse the offered money but he was adamant about her having at least a little something to start herself with. After that he'd pretty much hitchhiked his way all the way to the west coast.

Matt sighed again and began wandering around the small apartment, dumping whatever looked like trash into the bag. Shorted out wires, unusable tangled duct tape, paper plates and takeout containers all met the same fate. When the coffee table was uncluttered and he could see the floor, Matt was content and ran the garbage bag down to the dumpster.

He didn't spare a thought as he collapsed on the couch, onto his back so his goggles wouldn't dig into his face. He cast a gaze to his laptop sitting just out of reach, and decided it was too far away.

Matt fell asleep instead.

At around five in the morning, give or take five minutes because he was shit at properly setting the time, Matt picked himself up and grabbed his car keys and boots. He kept his precious car in a secure lot a short jog from the apartment. Once there, he settled himself into the front seat and drove.

Matt tried not to think so much as he just _did._ Oh sure, if some Boss guy who'd hired him told him he had a job, then yeah, Matt would gear his thoughts towards the job. But if it wasn't necessary? Matt was blank and just did whatever happened while his mind and body weren't synced up. It wasn't so bad, his short term memory was shot to hell because of it but he didn't care.

When Matt blinked himself back to proper consciousness, he was out of the city and on the side of the road with a half empty tank of gas. the sky was still dark but the faintest rays of sun were beginning to creep out. Matt took off his goggles and took a deep breath.

There was no one on the road so Matt walked out and sat down on the pavement in front of his car. With a shuddering breath, he let out a garbled yell that eventually turned into a sob.

* * *

Matt sighed.

The woman in front of him was counting out eight dollars and fifty seven cents with an assortment of coins, none of which were quarters. By the look on the cashier's face, he was close to blowing up. Finally, the woman finished counting and the cashier just dumped the coins into the register.

"What can I do for you," he asked, the faintest tinge of fatigue to his voice. Matt couldn't blame him.

"Marlboro," Matt said, pointing the cigarette case behind the counter, three packs."

"Oh, you're that guy Randy talks about, chain smoker with a sweet ride."

"Sure kid, just hurry up," Matt said tersely.

The kid, David according to his name tag, quickly rang up the packs and moved them across the counter. Matt handed him the money and left before David could give him any change.

He sat in the driver's seat, pausing a moment longer than necessary before starting his car. His knuckles were white as he drove, an ache settling into his fingers. David's eyes were sharp blue, not unlike Mello's.

It was closing in on sunset when Matt unlocked his door. His apartment was still semi clean, a few empty cartons of Chinese takeout sat on the counter but he wasn't going into the kitchen so he ignored them.

He made it to his bedroom without issue and stripped out of his clothes. Starting the shower, Matt didn't bother waiting for the water to heat up. When he'd first moved into the apartment, he'd not expected the water to be so cold. He'd tripped trying to get out and had vehemently refused to shower for four days.

But it didn't bother him now.

It was always in the shower that Matt's mind caught up with his body, forcing everything to sync up again. He rarely thought of Mello. Except for when he saw a pair of blue eyes, or a little blond kid picking out a chocolate bar at the supermarket, or the young man who lived across the hall that swore colorfully whenever he dropped his keys.

Matt sighed, so maybe that was a lie then.

He shut off the water and toweled off, pulling on some clothes. There was very little variation in his outfits, he figured it was a Wammy's thing. All the kids had their own self designated outfits. Near wore his white pajamas, Matt actually chalked that up to lethargy more than anything, and Linda was never seen without a sweater or sweatshirt of some kind. There was one girl who always wore something with polka dots, and a boy who always paired together long and short sleeved shirts. Matt figured it was a psychological thing. In their world, nothing had been for certain. L could die at any moment, someone would have to step up to fill that place and then what if they died? Anyone of them could have their true names dug up and then chaos would ensue. But the clothes stayed the same.

Matt grabbed his wallet and debated on whether or not to leave his goggles, he eventually decided to let them hang at his neck. Locking his door, he walked to the down town area. He planned on drinking, so no way was he taking a chance of damaging his car. He didn't have a particular bar he frequented, someone might remembered him. The people around him were more than happy to go about their business, dismissing the man with orange goggles who looked as though he'd not slept in weeks.

When he reached an unfamiliar bar, he stepped in and found a seat. The bartender looked at him with suspicion and Matt dug out his falsified I.D. The man nodded and Matt only asked for a beer, not caring which kind.

Sometimes, he forgot he wasn't even twenty one yet. He was used to acting older than his age. At Wammy's especially, no one was a child, their mental and physical age gap was anywhere between five and ten years, that gap grew the older they got. The proof was in Mello and it was in Near, and in Matt. They all grew up too fast. Wammy's may have been an orphanage, but it was full of geniuses that far surpassed the standards for children their age.

Matt would wake up in the morning feeling thirty instead of eighteen.

Out of the corner of his eye, Matt caught sight of a petite blond man a few seats down the bar, blatantly flirting with a second bartender, a ginger woman.

Matt slapped down some money and walked out of the bar, ignoring the odd stares. He sprinted down the street until he almost ran into a lamp post. Taking a heaving breath, Matt leaned against the nearest wall and tried to calm himself down. it wasn't Mello. Mello wouldn't cut his hair that short, his skin wasn't that tan. Mello would most definitely not be sitting in a random bar in some California town that most people didn't even know existed.

It wasn't Mello.

It wasn't Mello.

It wasn't Mello.

He sighed and began the walk back to his apartment, fists jammed into his pockets. His paces were calculated, precise, no hesitation. Those that littered the sidewalk, mostly scantily clad women and a few men socially smoking outside various buildings, moved out of the way when they saw him coming. The calm facade lasted until he reached his apartment and slammed the door shut behind him.

Matt ripped off his goggles and threw them across the room before kicking off his boots and tearing off his jacket. He stood there, hair in disarray, wearing mismatched socks, with tears in his eyes. Spinning on his heel, he drove his fist into the wall, breaking through until his skin met the support beams.

"Why?" he hissed, "Why do you have to keep haunting me, you bastard?"

Matt pulled his hand from the wall and curled up beneath the hole he'd created. He didn't notice the pain in his hand, or the fact that his knuckles were bleeding. He pulled his legs to his chest and twisted his fingers into his hair. Matt hadn't cried in a long while, he'd teared up for sure, but he'd not cried.

Soon enough though, he was gasping as tears raced down his cheeks, attempting to breath properly. But he couldn't. He was shaking, incoherent babbling and sobs escaping his lips. Matt was in deep. He knew that. Even back at Wammy's, he'd known. Mello had been everything, well not everything, but most things. He'd fallen so fucking deep for the blond, and he was dealing with the consequences.

Matt knew it wasn't healthy. It wasn't healthy to nearly have a breakdown when he saw someone who looked vaguely like Mello. it wasn't healthy to wake up in the morning wondering if Mello was dead, if Mello actually loved him. Matt knew there was something wrong with him. He figured it was some form of depression coupled with separation anxiety, but what did he know?

Pushing himself to his feet, Matt took the few shaky steps to his bathroom. He had an extensive first aid kit, after he'd burned his hand on the stove one too many times, Matt had made it a point to build the perfect kit and learned how to use it. He ran his hand under the tap and dug beneath the sink for the box, popping open the tabs and grabbing some antiseptic. He patted his hand dry with a washcloth and rubbed the antiseptic on his cuts before inspecting his knuckles to make sure he'd not displaced them. He taped a bandage pad in place and deemed himself done.

Matt then headed for his room, his dresser specifically. He almost pulled the drawer out as he dug through it.

In the back corner was a small faded note, folded and creased after years of crumpling it in hand then frantically smoothing it out. The bottom half the paper was singed, thankfully leaving the words undamaged. Matt had tried to burn it once, a split second after he put the lighter to the edge, he'd smothered the fire with his bare hand.

_Matty,_

_I have to do this, I'm sorry for leaving you but I don't want you involved in this._

Matt's good hand rose up to his hair again, tugging hard. He read and reread the words. He'd long ago memorized the words, but he liked looking at the curves of Mello's letters. Part of him wondered why Mello didn't sign the note but opened using Matt's pet name. Wondered why he'd left Matt with a nineteen word goodbye instead of a proper explanation. Wondered why Mello didn't correspond with him after he left, why he didn't send an affirmative that he was alive. Hell, a note saying ' _i'm fine'_ would have made it all bearable.

But Mello hadn't done that. Matt had been stuck reading the same words for years while Mello was out there on some inferiority and revenge driven mission. For all he knew, Mello was already dead.

Matt's breathing slowed from erratic to barely there and he refolded the note, setting it back into the dresser. He placed his gun over it and then moved an undershirt to cover the both of them. He smoothed his hair out as best he could and wormed his way out of his shirt and jeans before laying down. Settling his hands on his stomach, he resolved to stare at the ceiling.

"What do I do now, huh?" he asked the empty room.

Matt faintly remembered Beyond Birthday, he'd committed the boy's case to memory though. After A, no one knew her real name, committed suicide and left words on her wall written in her own blood, B had gone off the deep end. It was rumored that the two were involved but no one knew for sure. B left Wammy's and no one could find him, until the first body appeared of course. When all was said done, the children remaining at Wammy's too it up on themselves to break down Beyond's psyche, tried figure out what exactly it was that made him crack.

They'd all had their own theories, Matt's was an unpopular one. 'Too much stress, and attachment,' he'd said, only to find his theory dismissed as highly unlikely. The stress of being the next L cracked A's mind open and Beyond, who'd most certainly loved her in his own way, decided to take matter's into his own hands. In his mind, L was responsible, he was the one who killed A. So, if B couldn't kill L, he'd take the next best thing; L's spotless record.

Matt applied that reason to his situation.

L's death had cracked Mello. L was all the boy had tried to be, he was everything. Mello was out there, and Matt was left slowly losing his mind. He didn't think he'd suddenly develop blood lust and experiment on bodies, but he was pretty damn close to snapping and murdering the people who lived on the floor above him.

Matt rolled onto his stomach and turned his head so he wouldn't suffocate right away. Slowly, he managed to shut down his mind and he drifted to sleep.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had most of this typed on Wednesday but it was the middle of part one of exams week so I was pretty much running on fumes. I've got exams next week as well so I don't know if the next chapter will be on time, we'll see.
> 
> Anyways, we are now safely within canon timeline, this one is around Episode 29: Father, just before it and then moving into it. Linda also makes an appearance, she's very important to me. The first part of this chapter is really just needless drivel to remind everyone that Matt is alive, and also of his mindset thus far, the end of the chapter makes up for it though. I hope so. Also, another chapter that's more than 3000 words, and there are only ten more chapters after this!

Matt eyed the brunet in a way that one might describe as predatory. It had taken a few months to work out the specifics of poker but once he had, he was unbeatable. In order to avoid identification, he'd dyed his hair and used color contacts paired with glasses. Not his best disguise sure, but it was temporary as he only went once a week and didn't play major games.

The brunet went by the name of Aaron, and in Matt's eyes, the kid was a little punk. he'd managed to beat out some of Matt's competitors over the course of the past month and a half and Matt was so _not_ going to lose to a little twerp his own age. Matt had beat some thirty even men who'd been playing since they were kids, he had a reputation to uphold.

Aaron sat down with a friendly smile, Matt scowled.

Matt had been having a bad week. On Monday, he ran out of coffee but was too lazy to actually get up and get more. On Tuesday, his favorite laptop broke, he couldn't remember how exactly, only that it involved cup ramen and milk. He'd spent the entirety of Wednesday fixing his car, only to get a piece of metal stuck in his eyes. He'd had to remove it with a pair of tweezers and a series of mirrors because hospitals were out of the question. As a result, he tossed back painkillers, taped a gauze pad over his eye and slept until noon on Thursday. When he woke up, it was to a painful tug at his stomach and he spent the rest of the day hunched over the toilet trying not to pass out. Friday rolled around and he'd been working an on site job for an angry Italian mobster and he'd gotten shot in the arm. By the time Saturday rolled around, he'd had a breakdown and had put another hole through his wall before crying on the roof of the apartment building.

So, yeah, Matt was not in a good mood on Sunday. If Aaron so much as came close to beating him, Matt was gonna scream and beat the snarky ass grin off the kid's face.

Matt held his cards and gazed over them, keeping his face impassive. It was a good hand, could be better though. Mentally, he calculated the chances of drawing a spade. While he'd only been number three at Wammy's, Matt knew that if he actually applied himself, he'd most likely have placed above Near. But he hadn't wanted to push that hard, dedicate that much. He was content with second when Mello arrived, and then third when Near knocked them both down a rank. And then staying in third was necessary, it wasn't like he minded.

As the others looked over their hands, Matt constantly reworked the calculations. he decided to go for it and traded in a useless three of hearts and a four of clubs. As it were, his decision paid off and he received a King and ten of spades, exactly what he needed to complete his hand. His eyes darted to Aaron, noting that he was bouncing his leg. Matt could see the minute way the left side of his body shook as he did so. The table obscured everything from the ribs down, but it was pretty obvious. Most players had not so obvious tells, or they kept up the tell throughout, kept it constant so no one would know. But Aaron was a relatively new player so it was possible-

The kid grinned.

Ah, a cop out then, Matt decided.

The game stretched for a good hour and a half. Matt was glad that he won, it meant he didn't have to expend energy beating up stupid punks. He turned in his chips and shoved his winnings into his bag before heading back to his apartment. Matt kept his cash locked up within his apartment. He didn't trust banks, mainly because if he could hack them, then others could as well. He showered, washing out the majority of the dollar store dye and watching in fascination as it seemed to bleed down his body and down the drain.

Once dried and dressed, Matt plopped down on his bed with a handheld and played until exhaustion, and the pain from his recently acquired gunshot wound, took over and he fell asleep.

* * *

"Linda!" the girl in question looked up from her sketchbook to see Bethany running towards her at top speed.

"Beth, what's wrong?"

"There are Japanese police here, they're talking to Roger, you need to go to his office," Bethany was huffing and puffing, it was hard to understand her but Linda got the gist, and judging by just how panicked Bethany seemed, it was serious.

"What?"

"Police, it's about Mello and Near, you have to- you need to go Roger's office, _now_."

Shakily, Linda pulled herself up to her feet, clapping Bethany on the shoulder in passing. As she made her way to Roger's office, her mind began to spin.

Why had they come? How did they even find out about Wammy's House? And what did they want to know about Mello and Near? Everyone was following the events of the Kira investigation, but there was surprisingly little as far as public information went. Near didn't send updates like L did and no one knew where Mello was. Or Matt for that matter. But shouldn't the Japanese Task Force be working _with_ Near. Surely that was the case, right? Wouldn't they need to work together to catch Kira? And if they wanted to know about Mello, that meant they'd found him. Had he gotten himself involved? If he was, it wouldn't be with the Task Force, as they would be working with Near, so was he on an opposing side? Or just a third party?

Linda knocked on the door and waited, nibbling on her lower lip.

"Oh, Linda," Roger said as he opened the door, "good, you have your supplies."

Linda looked to the two policemen who stood near Roger's desk. One was younger, probably a rookie, and the other looked trustworthy, if a little exasperated. Linda had been in the language courses, she'd learned Japanese alongside Near, Mello and Matt. But that didn't mean she was going to speak to them, Roger probably already told them that she could speak Japanese anyways. The situation had to be played right and Linda refused to give up her high ground position to these men. She opted to stay standing, sitting down meant vulnerability, and relaxed her muscles so she could stand at ease.

"Linda, they need you to draw a picture of Near and Mello."

She made sure to keep her face calm, despite the fact that she began raging inside. The way Roger said their names meant that the old man had already told the men everything about the two boys. That was not okay in Linda's book. Wammy's House was strict about confidentiality. She didn't care if these men were working with Near or not, they had no right to find Wammy's and come in requesting pictures.

"No," she said sharply, squaring her shoulders and staring Roger down like she was the Alpha in the room. And Linda was indeed an Alpha, in her own way. She'd all but taken over as Wammy's House matriarch, pushed into first rank since Near and Mello and Matt left. She didn't mind, not really anyways. All the other kids liked her, she held their respect without even trying and she was often the one they went to when there was an issue that needed resolving. Linda was a kind soul, she knew that, but she was also nearly aggressively protective of those around her. She knew that complying with Roger's wishes, really the policemen's wishes, would certainly end horrifically.

"Linda," Roger started.

"No, why the hell do they need pictures for?" she purposely ignored the other men in the room, turning her attention to Roger and adjusting her body language to suggest there really was no one else present. "If they're working with Near that should be enough and I don't give a damn what Mello's done to get himself involved but they have no reason to see their faces!"

"I beg your pardon," the younger man cut in, apparently having somewhat understood the last part about Mello, "But Mello is heading a mafia based in the United States, he kidnapped our Chief's daughter and is in possession of a Death Note, it's one of Kira's weapons. He used it to kill a number of people working under Near. And he's not much more cooperative either, we know he doesn't think we can help him with this investigation."

The man was cuffed over the back of his head by his companion, most likely for divulging to much but Linda was preoccupied with other thoughts.

Mello had _what?_

No, it wasn't possible. Mello was mean, he was explosive, but there was no way he would...he couldn't. Mello wouldn't- but he might. Mello had kidnapped a girl. Mello was head of a mafia. A mafia for Christ's sake. Linda couldn't imagine it, it wasn't matching up. Mello, ice queen Mello who would smile on occasion, Mello who'd gone to her for help when he panicked because Matt was sick with a stomach flu. Mello who threw miniature tantrums or got frustrated with his test scores, Mello who'd she'd seen gently gazing at Matt when the other boy had his head buried in a handheld game. The image of that Mello and the one the men had just presented her with, there was no way they were the same person. Oh, god, Matt. Was Matt with him? Did Matt even know what was going on?

Linda turned towards the younger policeman.

"Uh, either of them, Near or Mello, have they mentioned another party? For contact purposes? Or as a channel for you to go through when working with them?" It was risky question, she could brush it off if they pressed though.

"Why?"

Oh, that was that then, Matt wasn't with him.

"Nothing," Linda felt the skin of her lip split open as she bit too deep.

"Say I do in fact draw these pictures for you, and let's say you apprehend Mello, because I'm assuming that's what you're going to attempt to do, he will be brought back here and you will not take action against him. He's not committed crimes in your country and I doubt you have any physical evidence that could link him to anything, so even if you do try him, you won't get far. We can deal with him here, is that understood?"

Linda was seventeen, almost an adult and ready to leave Wammy's, but she was still a child to these men. Even so, she would not be backing down. She locked her gaze for the older man and did her best to radiate power. She was ignoring Roger by that point, she doubted he really cared all that much though.

The man nodded but Linda doubted he would follow through with it. Most likely, Mello would be 'accidentally' killed if a crossfire ensued when they confronted him. Christ on the cross, he was in a mafia, of course there was going to be gunfire.

Regardless, Linda took a deep breath and flipped to a clean page in her sketchbook. It would be relatively easy to imagine the boys aged up, though she doubted that Near had changed much at all. If she did that though, it would help the Task Force too much. So she sketched them in soft lines, drawing them with their baby faces and trying to simplify their features a little. If she did so too much, Roger would know, but it wasn't like he paid much attention to her artwork.

The sketches were done in under a half hour and she handed them over.

"That's as good as you're going to get. I apologize for the fact that I couldn't age them up for you, if I'd done that, I might have done it wrong, and then, well, that'd bring its own problems," she smiled, and the men knew she was lying, and she knew that they knew.

They said nothing.

Linda watched the two men through Roger's office windows and waited until they were off the premises. She swiped a book off Roger's desk just because she could and left, slamming the door shut behind her as she did so.

* * *

Matt's phone went off in the middle of his final boss battle. Under usual circumstances, he wouldn't pause a boss battle, but not many people had his number, and those that did wouldn't call him unless it was necessary.

"Yeah?" he answered, setting down his controller.

"One of our branches went up in flames, I need you to head over there ASAP. I doubt any of the computers survived, but if they did I need that data wiped. There's some Japanese police crawling over the place though, so be careful."

The line went dead and Matt sighed. He knew which branch the boss man was talking about, he'd installed the network for it a few months ago in preparation for the group of guys that'd be taking over soon. If the building really did catch fire, it was unlikely the computers would be anything more than melted lumps of plastic and metal. But Matt knew percentages, and he knew that there was a chance that not all of the building burned, or that one of the computers survived.

But still, what were Japanese police doing in L.A.? The only thing he knew that concerned the Japanese was their ongoing issue with Kira, was that why they'd come? There wasn't any other reason they would. But L had figured that Kira was in Japan, before he died that is, did the police think that the mysterious murderer had come to the U.S.? If they did, they were stupid.

Matt grabbed his things, and shoved them in a shoulder bag. It wasn't too far of a drive and when he got closer, he could see the still burning husk of the building.

"Damn, " he muttered, parking his car, "who pulled the trigger on this operation?"

Shrugging, he opened his laptop and got set up. If there were any functional systems left inside, his program would pinpoint them. All the data that went into those computers got synced up to Matt's on a biweekly basis, it was just a precaution in case Matt had to go turn coat or use blackmail. He'd be able to forcibly sync them from where he was and then wipe the hard drives. Of course, that was all under the assumption that anything was still operational.

He got out of his car and decided to look for survivors. If he did find them, he'd have to shoot them. It wouldn't be the first time he'd put a bullet in someone's brain and he'd long since stopped being squeamish about it. The policemen on scene stayed towards the front of the building, they were all huddled up, talking to someone through a phone. Matt went around the back and started looking.

He didn't find much and opted to light a cigarette and look a little more when he was done smoking.

* * *

In hindsight, Mello probably should've used more explosives. He'd not counted on the explosion failing to kill him. Though, given his record, he should've known that it would take more than a few trigger bombs to send him to an early grave.

His body was on fire, well, not literally anymore. It was at some point but he'd rolled around and smothered the flames, but now he was, quite simply, in a lot of pain. He knew he wasn't dead yet, but he could feel it creeping up on him. It was only a matter of time before the Task Force found him. They'd either kill him or take him into custody.

Either option was unsavory.

He manged to push himself enough to roll over onto his back so his face wasn't smashed against the rubble. It felt marginally better, he didn't have to worry about exacerbating the burned skin. The action made him wheeze and he shut his eyes.

"Damn it," he whispered, voice nothing more than a rasp escaping his lungs.

The next step was to sit up, he had to mentally prepare himself for the pain that would follow. The fire had claimed his face, yes, but it had also gotten at the left side of his torso as well, from about his hip to his shoulder. He'd also been knocked into a wall, and if his ribs weren't broken, they were surely bruised. He was actually quite surprised he'd not broken any of his limbs, it made what he was about to do somewhat easier.

With a pained gasp, Mello pushed himself back against a large piece of the warehouse, nearly passing out from the pain.

He wrestled his eyes open, failing with the left one but that was all right, and he looked up at the dark sky. The pain radiated outwards, like millions of tiny brands and needles, and he wasn't going numb. He figured it was because of the pain that he was hallucinating and he cursed his brain for doing that because that was the last thing he wanted to see as the moment. But he managed a grin at the sight his brain produced. The red head was trying to light a cigarette off a burning support beam that was about give way at any second.

But wait, Matt didn't smoke, so why would Mello think of that? It was Matt, without a doubt, no one else was stupid enough to wear orange goggles, let alone at night. Who else could it be but Matt?

"Matt?" he rasped. He knew what he was seeing, but there was no way that Matt was in L.A., no way that he was only a few yards away. He tried calling again and was rewarded with Matt's head turning in his general direction. He wanted to try again but his body finally gave out and he fell unconscious.

* * *

Matt heard the near silent cries and was quite confused. No one knew his name. The few boss guys who'd seen him just called him 'red head' or 'goggles'. Who'd be around that knew his name? He walked in the direction the voice had come from, taking off his goggles so he could see better. The flames provided just enough light that he wouldn't trip over anything but the voice was quiet so he wasn't sure where to look.

He was about to give up when he saw him. Matt nearly stumbled, his heart beat stuttered before it kicked up dangerously high as he began to hyperventilate. He fell to his knees and reached out, hand shaking, to see if the boy in front of him was really. His fingers barely glanced against the skin of Mello's right cheek. The left side of his face was burned, his clothes were full of smoking holes and any visible skin was streaked in red and black. His rosary, miraculously, was unscathed, sitting around his neck like it always had. His hair had grown out to, no longer prim and proper. The most surprising thing, if one disregarded the fact that Mello was indeed before Matt, was that he was wearing leather.

Snapping from his fearful awe, Matt put his ear to Mello's chest, listening for a heart beat. He couldn't hear anything other then the erratic rhythm of his own so he checked multiple pulse points around his body. When he finally found one, he started crying. As gently as he could, Matt lifted him off the ground, trying his best not to touch the ruined skin. He carried him back to his car and set Mello's battered, but still beating, body in the backseat.

His laptop reported nothing present and he sped off, constantly looking in his rear view mirror to check if Mello was still there.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter! I figured I'd get another one uploaded before exams next week, so here you are! I'm entirely too fond of flashbacks, there's one here, and there are more to come, just a warning.
> 
> Anyhow, not much to say, so read on!

"Oh, god, okay, just don't die, please. Um, I can do this, right? Matt, you can do this."

Matt didn't know the first thing about surgery, or treating burns with anything other than over the counter ointments. However, he did have his extensive first aid kit, and an internet connection. He left Mello for thirteen minutes to run to the drug store around the corner. He knew for a fact that he would need more than what he had at his apartment to treat Mello, and he didn't want to leave again if he didn't have to. The cashier gave him an odd look when she rang up his purchases; all manners of pain medication, bandages, antiseptic, medical tape, and whatever else he'd seen while skimming through Wiki pages.

Mello was settled on the table. Matt had figured that the floor was a bad idea and the couch was hard to work around. Besides, all he'd had to do was swipe the papers and files off the table top and, viola, an operation counter. The shock of finding Mello was second only to the shock of find him in his current state.

Matt slipped off his gloves and goggles, rolling up his sleeves as he drew closer. He took off what remained of Mello's odd leather vest to see the extent of the damage. His skin was twisted and warped by the fire, some parts were still black and weeping blood. Any untouched skin was discolored by bruises, there was probably damage to his ribs.

Matt forced himself to take a breath, trying to slow his erratic heart beat.

"Okay, save him, I've got to save him."

* * *

It was quiet. The still was almost paranormal. Not that they minded though. The stars looked nice on the backdrop of the rare clear night sky. Matt's goggles were off for once, at Mello's insistence of course.

"Hey, Mells?"

"Yeah?"

"You're happy, right?" Matt asked, squeezing Mello's hand a bit tighter.

"You're a sap, Matt," he replied instead of answering.

"Mello," Matt's tone was nagging, nearly desperate. He was used to Mello's evasiveness in the field of romance, but it was important.

"Yes, I'm happy, you moron."

Matt rolled his eyes but cuddled up closer, quite pleased with himself when he felt Mello's lips press to his head.

* * *

Matt hadn't realized he was crying until one of the tears splashed onto the tweezers he was holding. Mello's skin was full of glass and wood splinters, there were a lot of them. He'd gotten Mello more or less cleaned up, sterilized anyways and he was almost done getting rid of the splinters.

With a shuddering breath, Matt dried his eyes and got back to the task at hand.

Once all the splinters were removed, he applied more antiseptic. Mello's ruined skin was almost shiny, what with all the sprays and creams he'd put on him. He checked every few minutes for a pulse and would step back to make sure that his chest was still rising and falling with every breath he took.

"You're a bastard you know that right?" Matt mumbled as he took the bandages out of one of the shopping bags, tearing off the plastic with his teeth.

He wiped his hands off with a rag and unraveled the first bandage roll.

"Yeah, you disappear, you leave a letter, and the next time I see you, which is years later, I'm pulling you out of the burning remains of a mafia half way house. I mean, I know you're dramatic and all, but damn it, you could have died."

Matt forced himself to chuckle but there were still tears running down his face. Sniffling, he began wrapping Mello's upper torso and tried to bandage his face. When that was done, he propped Mello up so he was more or less slumped in a sitting position, the uninjured half of his face resting on Matt's shoulder to keep him upright. Winding the bandages around the remaining ruined skin, Matt set him back down against the table. He double checked his handiwork, making sure it was at least passable before moving the kitchen to wash his hands.

After checking for Mello's pulse, he went to his bedroom to put down another set of sheets and clear off the bed. Once satisfied, he returned to the kitchen and gently picked Mello up. He settled him down and fluffed a pillow, sliding it under his head. It took nearly five minutes and the entirety of Matt's explicit vocabulary, but he got Mello's ruined leather pants off. He replaced them with a baggy pair of pajama bottoms and tossed the offending piece of clothing into the corner.

"You could have died, but you're okay now, and you're more or less okay. I mean, you're not _okay_ okay, but you're not dead, that's good. You- I'm-"

He took Mello's hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Just open your eyes soon okay? You have to. Promise me. Mello, you have to promise me that you'll wake up."

* * *

Mello had been unconscious for a few days. It was enough time for Matt to properly learn how to wrap bandages. Miraculously, none of the open wounds seemed to be infected, that might be due in part to Matt's nearly religious bandage changing schedule, but he was glad nevertheless. He finally noticed the black ring strung on Mello's rosary. Before he could get excited however, he noted how thin Mello was.

And he started crying.

He held the half burned and bandaged body of his best friend, his love, and he sobbed.

That night, Matt sat beside him and held his hand. Absently, he ran his thumb over Mello's knuckles and talked aloud. He remembered reading somewhere that talking to coma patients made them wake up faster. Or something like that. And, even if Mello wasn't in a coma per say, or maybe he was, Matt still thought it would help.

"You know, I really thought you had beat it. I'm not trying to berate you or call you weak or anything, I promise. I was just so proud when you stopped all this. I mean, I'm still proud, you headed a mafia, that's pretty impressive, gutsy to. I just hope, you know, that maybe, you're just thin because you've been busy- I just hope you haven't gone back to that."

As the night wore on, Matt's eyes drifted to the little black ring on Mello's rosary.

He still had his, it hadn't fit in ages. He'd strung it on a chain and kept it tucked under his shirt. Sentimentality he supposed. For the first months after Mello left, Matt had refused to wear it and kept it locked in a box. He'd thrown it into a pond in the woods but he'd ended up diving in. He spent seven hours searching for it and, while he did find it, he was sick for a week and a half.

He looked on the inside of his ring, noting the engraving. Mello had never told him what it said and it was too worn for Matt to properly make out. He'd asked Mello once but the blond had only shook his head and said that it wasn't important.

"Wake up soon, Mells, I need to know you've been okay."

Matt tucked the ring back under his shirt and took Mello's hand. After a two second debate, he leaned forward to kiss his unburned cheek.

* * *

"Mihi, come on hon, open up those pretty little eyes."

Mello knew that voice, it was familiar as all hell but he didn't open his eyes. His body was on fire, every inch of his skin consumed with a white hot pain. Even breathing hurt.

"Mihi, it's Mika, open your eyes."

Mika?

Mello pushed himself up, vision blacking out for a split second until he was slouched but sitting. He looked about, frantically trying to find his sister.

"Hey, calm down, don't hurt yourself."

Mika knelt beside him, her tired smile aimed at him, making the pain bleed away. Her hair was in a messy, but artful, tumble down her back and her crystal blue eyes shown with a weak light, more a candle flicker than a fire. She was wearing the last outfit Mello had seen her in. The clothes she'd collapsed in. Her shirt was a long white button up, still splattered with blood and stained with vomit near the sleeves. Her black skirt was covered in dirt, torn and frayed along the bottom, her shoes were missing, showing off hole riddled tights. Her face was a mess of drastic angles, her eyes slightly sunk, lips thin, she had a smear of lipstick stretching from the right corner of her lip to her cheek.

She was still beautiful.

"Mika?" he asked weakly.

"Oh, Mihi, what have you gotten yourself into?" Mika reached out for his face, Mello found himself leaning to meet her halfway. When her hand came in contact with his cheek, the pain returned, setting his nerves alight.

"Why- I don't understand. Am I dead?" he was confused, very confused.

"What's the last thing you remember, Mihi?" Mika moved to sit behind him, gingerly wrapping her arms around his waist, where there was only severe bruising instead of destroyed skin.

"I- there was an explosion, I was on fire for a bit...Matt! Matt was there, why was he there?" he asked, trying to turn to look at Mika. She only kissed his head, ruffling his hair afterwards.

"Mihi, you're not dead yet, but you could be. Matt got you out. He misses you, a lot. You can't leave him again, okay? Make sure you wake up, got it?"

"Wait, but Mika-"

She began to get up and Mello scrambled to stop her, grabbing her hand and tugging her to a stop. He couldn't stand up, so there wasn't much he could do, but he held on with everything he had, despite the fact that his was beginning to go numb.

"No, I don't- I don't want you to leave me again! You can't!"

That same tired smile graced her lips again and she crouched down, lifting his hand to her lips and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

"And you can't leave him again either. Don't worry, Mihi. You'll see me again, I promise," she leaned forward to kiss his forehead, pressing two more to his closed eyes.

"No-"

"You need to wake up for him Mihael, promise me you'll wake up for him."

Mika was disappearing even as he held her hand. The blood and vomit on her shirt faded away and the fatigue in her eyes began to vanish as well. She offed up one last smile before she was gone completely.

"Okay."

* * *

Something was cutting off the circulation in his hand. He knew because the rest of his body hurt like hell fire but his right hand was the only part that was completely numb. He couldn't see out of his left eye and he was cold and hot at the same time. Mika's image was fresh in his scattered mind and his first instinct was to look for her.

What he found instead was enough to make him close his eyes again, wishing that it was all a bad dream.

Matt sat at his side, in a rolling chair no less, legs splayed out and dangling to the floor. Despite his lax sleeping position, he had a death grip on Mello's hand. He had changed, much more than Mello had imagined. His face was sharper, he finally lost his baby fat and his hair had grown out, he had bangs. His goggles hung from his neck, though they seemed to be a different kind than what Mello remembered. It was a good change, he decided, Matt didn't look quite as ridiculous as before. He was no doubt taller than Mello now, the term that came to mind was 'bean-pole'.

Still, not matter how he looked, Matt was still every bit as beautiful as he had been at Wammy's.

And Mello felt incredibly guilty.

He didn't think he'd run into Matt so soon, if at all. Mello had figured that once Kira was gone, he'd find Matt again, but it seemed that fate was finicky. Because Kira wasn't gone yet, and it was Matt who'd found him.

Did Matt still love him?

Did he still love Matt?

While Mello didn't know the answer to the first question, he knew he still loved the affectionate and awkward red head he knew at Wammy's. He still loved Matt, bu they were older, it had been a few years. Mello had changed drastically; heading a mafia, committing murder just to fuck with Near, kidnapping an innocent girl as a means to acquire the Death Note. Hell, he'd blown himself up.

Did he feel bad?

No.

Should he?

Probably.

But Mello didn't feel bad. He would beat Near, prove himself a worthy successor of L and avenge the detective.

Mello remembered when L had sent simulation cases to him and Near. Near was apathetic, Mello was torn over the fact that there were children involved, if he made the wrong choice, they would die. Near had beat him then, Near would not be allowed to beat him now.

The Death Note was gone, the Task Force had it. He wasn't sure what Near was up to. He didn't even know how long he'd been unconscious. That could be good or bad. They might all think him dead. He could work that to his favor until he was ready to get back in action.

Then again-

"You're awake."

Mello turned his gaze and his heart skipped. Matt's eyes were as green as they'd ever been, but there was something new to them.

"Yeah," he said dumbly.

Matt dropped his hand and pulled Mello into a rough, and incredibly tight, hug. Pain flared and Mello gasped, his vision going hazy again. Matt didn't seem to care. Although, his face was buried in the uninjured side of Mello's neck and he was careful about where his arms were, so maybe he did care. But it still hurt to be abruptly forced upright. It wasn't until Mello felt his neck getting wet that he realized Matt was crying. Awkwardly, he settled his right arm on his back, unable to properly move his left one.

"You're alive," Matt whispered.

"So are you," figuring that he wouldn't be letting go any time soon, Mello rested his head on Matt's.

After about ten minutes, Matt hastily jumped back.

"Oh, sorry, I shouldn't have jostled you like that, you're probably hurting a lot right now, I'll get some pain killers," he said quickly, rushing out of he room before Mello could say anything.

When the object of his distraction and confusion was gone, Mello realized how hungry he was.

He ignored the feeling.

Matt returned after a few minutes with a glass of chocolate milk and a pill bottle.

"I, uh, I went to the store while you were unconscious and stocked up. I don't usually keep a lot of food here," he set the glass down on the nightstand and opened the bottle, shaking two of the pills into his palm. He set the pills down as well and helped Mello sit up properly, using a combination of blankets and pillows to prop him up comfortably. Afterwards, he handed Mello the pain killers and help him take a drink.

"I'll go make you something, you can't take pain killers on an empty stomach and you've been out for a few days."

Again, he left the room and Mello got the feeling that Matt didn't know what to do anymore than he did.

Matt returned with a plate of crackers and a yogurt carton. He sat down, mumbling about how the internet said to start with lighter foods. Matt was quiet and Mello stared at the plate, contemplating whether or not he should eat. He knew he was being watched, knew what was going through Matt's head with every passing second that he didn't make a move to eat. He knew there were a thousand and one ways to handle the situation better.

But they'd been apart for years, and they couldn't exactly pick up their old routine like nothing had happened.

"You eat, I'll get a bath started, you're in luck, the water is warm all the time now."

Mello watched him walk the short distance to the bathroom. It was actually in the room but he shut the door. There was a heart beat of silence before Mello heard a frustrated half sob half scream. Then the water turned on.

Knowing that Matt might blow up, a lot worse than a simple scream, if he didn't eat, Mello forced down the food and drank the rest of the chocolate milk. the pain killers kicked in and the fire finally started to ebb.

It was an awkward few hours that followed.

Matt helped him to the bathroom but Mello demanded to be left alone, he didn't want help. Matt had looked hurt for a split second before a mask of apathy had settled over his features and he turned on his heel, leaving Mello to himself. It was startling, how easily Matt had removed his emotions, almost scary and Mello worried that that was his fault as well.

When it was time to get out of the tub, Matt helped him but allowed Mello his pride and let him dry himself and get a pair of boxers on. He then sat patiently as Matt inspected his burns and rebandaged him. It was a little chilly and Matt handed him a pair of pajamas. Mello managed the pants on his own but his hands were shaking too badly to put on the shirt, so Matt did that.

He drank a little more water and a few more crackers before falling asleep.

When he woke, Matt was at his side again. He had a ring in his hands, turning it about the chain, running his fingers over it.

"Is that-"

"Yeah."

Mello began to reach for his own ring but he stopped himself.

"You never told me," Matt said, eyes fixed on his ring.

"Never told you what?" Mello asked. His tone was a bit harsher than he'd meant it to be but he'd not yet gotten another dose of pain killers.

"My ring has an engraving inside it, you never told me what it means."

"It's not important."

A tired grin, not unlike Mika's, stretched his lips. Matt looked worn out, physically and emotionally, the grin was empty.

"Right, that's what you said last time I asked," he tentatively took Mello's hand, giving it a squeeze before standing up, "I'm going to the store, to restock, you should try to get some more sleep, you need it. There are two more pills on the nightstand if you want them."

Mello froze as Matt kissed his forehead and he held his breath. When he heard the front door shut, he exhaled.

Matt certainly felt something, otherwise he wouldn't bother. But it was clear that he was uncertain. Soon enough, Mello knew, they were going to end up talking about it. That's just how it was with Matt, he needed the words to validate, to verify. Mello was dreading it. He was emotionally driven, sure, but that didn't mean he could talk about them. That was sappy, and heartwarming, and that sort of stuff was Matt's department.

Although, judging by how easily Matt had played Near's apathy card, he'd certainly learned how to get a handle on himself. It was concerning, the Matt he knew cried and smiled and he wore his heart on his sleeve. The Matt he was faced with, it was a new Matt, and Mello didn't know where he stood with him.

With a tired sigh, Mello decided to take Matt's advice and sleep. Even if he'd only woken up a few hours ago, he was already tired. His hand gravitated toward his ring and his fingers formed a fist around it.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry, I had every intention of having this chapter up yesterday. I had it typed and everything but I didn't get around to proof reading it. But, at least it's up now. The next one most likely won't be up until the weekend, same schedule as usual.
> 
> I realize that there is a startling lack of Near in this story but he's gonna show up again soon, and we've also got another guest appearance from Linda, I'm not sure if she pops up again, oh well. Chapter 22 is gonna be more of Mello's musings than Matt's, so there you go.

Matt was in the washroom, installing a new mirror. He'd broken the first one in the third week he'd moved in. It had shattered completely and he'd spent a half hour picking glass splinters from his knuckles as a result. He was unproductive until they'd healed, unable to type or even light his cigarettes properly.

He had no issue with the broken mirror, he didn't like looking at himself aside from checking to see how dark the circles under his eyes were. He could just do that in the reflection from his computer, or his phone, so the loss of the bathroom mirror wasn't a big deal. But Mello had bitched about it because he couldn't see his scar, and also because he was as high maintenance as they came. Matt suspected that Mello had other reasons for wanting the mirror, but he wasn't going to press.

It had been a little over a week since Mello woke up, he was already able to walk a little on his own. He wasn't eating a much as Matt would have liked, but he was drained enough as it was and even if he wanted to fight Mello about it, he couldn't bring himself to. In all reality, he was just happy that Mello was alive.

They hadn't talked much since. Matt had gotten in a few kisses, even fell asleep beside him once in that time. He knew Mello wanted to get back to whatever it was he was doing before he got blown up. But he wasn't fully healed yet. He was still in bandages and the warped skin from the burn wasn't done healing yet. He could only take those few steps on his own before he had to stop and even sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed knocked the air from his lungs.

Matt stepped back and nodded at his reflection, not bothering to smile at it. He leaned against the counter and moved his goggles off of his eyes. They weren't as bright as they used to be, that much was obvious, the green seemed flat. He was paler to, and the shadows beneath his eyes stood out in comparison.

"Well, you could be worse," he said, watching his lips from the words.

Somehow, it didn't look right.

Sighing, Matt turned off the light and left the bathroom. Mello was in the living room, laying on the floor in front of the balcony, letting his wounds breathe.

"Hey, Mells, the mirror's up if you wanna' go take a look," he said, offering his hand down to Mello

Mello accepted the gesture but once he was on his feet, he walked alone, hugging the wall in a not so subtle manner as he made his way to the bathroom. Matt didn't offer to help further. The first time he had, Mello had proved his strength by throwing a boot at him. He'd missed of course, the boot had thumped into the door, nowhere near Matt at all, but he'd smiled when Mello's back was turned. It proved he'd not changed all that much after all.

A few minutes passed and Mello had yet to return. Somewhat worried, Matt tried not to run back to the bathroom.

"Mells? You okay-"

Mello was on his knees in front of the sink, his fingers loosely gripping the counter. He was breathing heavily and his head was bowed.

Without thinking, Matt moved to sit behind him, putting his arms around his torso. Gently, he pulled Mello away from the counter until his fingers fell away and thudded to the floor. Shifting back until he hit the wall, Matt spared one of his hands to take Mello's. Through it all, Mello said nothing, he was limp as a rag doll, nearly dead weight. He felt Mello shiver slightly and his head lolled back so it was resting against Matt's shoulder.

The position was a little awkward, Mello was just the slightest bit taller than Matt, the main difference was in their legs, but Mello's were bent awkwardly, pushing his body farther up. Matt was more or less supporting his weight, trying to keep Mello from sliding. Not to mention that the bathroom wasn't all that big. But he managed. Tilting his head, he pressed a kiss to Mello's neck but stayed quiet, waiting for Mello to break the silence.

Eventually, he did.

"Matt?" his voice wasn't as rough as it had been when he woke up, but he still rasped like he was gargling thumbtacks.

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you save me?"

Of all the things Matt had been expecting, that certainly wasn't it. He'd expected an ornery 'get up' or a hostile 'let go of me, I don't need your help'. But no, not that at all. He tried to collect his thoughts, which was easier said than done.

"I was there, you were there. I spent years wondering if you were okay, if you were alive. And then, you were just- you were there, granted, you were half dead, but you were there, and you were alive, and I had to. I still love you, even if I don't know you as well as I used to. And even if you've done some pretty bad shit. I'm just glad you're alive."

He felt Mello shake and thought he was crying until he heard the laughter.

"Even if I've killed people? Even if I killed someone with my bare hands, because I have. I've done that, Matt. How the hell is _anyone_ supposed to love a murderer?"

"I've killed people to you know, shot them. So, I don't know, you tell me."

They sat on the floor for a while. It was cramped and Matt's legs were starting to lose feeling, but Mello had yet to protest being held so he wasn't about to complain.

* * *

"Hey, Mells?"

"What?"

Matt had gotten him to eat earlier, so Mello was in somewhat of bad mood. They sat in the kitchen, Matt was cutting Mello's hair while the blond was reading through an article on one of Matt's laptops.

"When we were talking, and I said that I still loved you-"

"Changing your mind?" Mello cut in, blindly setting the laptop on the counter but not moving otherwise.

"No, no of course not. I just," Matt snipped at an extra long lock and set down the scissors before brushing out Mello's hair, "I was just wondering if you still loved me, I mean, you didn't really respond."

Deeming Mello's hair not ruined anymore, Matt put down the brush and pulled Mello's hair into a loose ponytail. It was by no means perfect, it was kind of uneven, but it would have to do. He picked up the small broom and the dustpan, sweeping up Mello's hair and dumping it in the trash while he waited for his response.

"I don't know, Matty. It's been a while. And I can't- we've both changed and I don't know if- Anyways, it's not really a priority, I have to catch Kira-"

"Beat Near you mean," Matt cut in, glad that he couldn't see Mello's face because, surely, the bond was displaying an ugly sort of anger on his burned features.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means, Mells," Matt leaned against the counter and put on his goggles, hiding behind them really. "You care that L died, I don't doubt that, but you're more mad at the fact that he didn't choose a successor, so you're trying to prove that you're better than Near. That's why you're doing this, and you know that."

Matt wasn't sure what had compelled him to say all that, but it felt good to some extent. To lay it out all so he wouldn't convince himself otherwise.

Mello stood up, turning to face Matt. He was right, Mello's features were contorted in fury.

"Don't think for a minute that you know what I'm thinking or why I'm doing any of this-"

"Oh, really?" Matt scoffed, a bitter laugh leaping through his lips, "Do you really think I don't know? You're an open book, Mello. Did you forget all the time we spent together? All the time at Wammy's? I _know_ you, Mello. I've talked you out of nightmares, I slept at your side, holding you and comforting you, for _years,_ we grew up together and I know you okay? You're just going to have to deal with that."

They stared. Mello's eyes full of loathing and confusion, Matt's of hurt and longing.

Mello was the first to crack. He let out a strangled scream and turned around, stalking to the bedroom and slamming the door shut. He would probably collapse on the bed due to physical exhaustion.

Matt sighed and hopped up onto the counter. He hadn't expected them to fight so soon. Hadn't expected Mello to have descended that far yet. Mello hadn't even answered his question, not really. Besides that, he'd convinced himself that his rage fueled vendetta against Near was really an avenging mission for L.

He sighed again and resigned himself to sleeping on the couch.

* * *

"Okay you red headed little twit, let's see if this works."

Linda had only left Wammy's a few days ago, after drawing the pictures for the Task Force guys, she'd hightailed it out and set herself up in the U.S. It seemed to be the flocking ground for Wammy's House runaways and she figured it wasn't a streak for her to break. Matt had taught her a bit about computers and all she had to do was figure out where he would go, then make a few calls. See if anyone knew anything about a genius hacker. Most likely a smoker, wore stupid orange goggles. Asking about Mello would be easier, especially with the information that Bethany had swiped from the car the Task Force guys came in.

With the world in the mess it was in now, no one was going to think otherwise about a cute girl asking around for some boys.

She wasn't going to make real contact, she just wanted to make sure they were both alive, make sure they both knew what was going on. It wasn't really her fight, she could have easily washed her hands of the two, but she didn't.

Before leaving Wammy's, she'd snuck into Roger's office and perused the files boxes for information on Near, Mello and Matt. Each child at Wammy's house had a single picture taken of them when they arrived and it was given to them to do with what they pleased. At some point in time, each of them had done something with it. Linda had covered hers in layers and layers of acrylic paint after soaking it in bleach to disfigure her image. Matt had shredded his then set it on fire. Mello had hidden his, and no one knew what happened to Near's.

Though, there was talk that Near had found Mello's picture and taken it with him, maybe predicting that the Task Force would come around. How he would know, Linda wasn't sure. She was half convinced the kid was psychic.

When Linda found the files, she gleaned a bit of information. For one, Wammy's funding came from a secure banking account belonging to Mr. Wammy. Each kid had access to a certain amount, attainable only when they decided to leave Wammy's, or if there was a previously worked out circumstance. If one of them became L, they're section of the funding would be transferred.

She knew Matt wasn't stupid enough to leave a trail but Mello might have been. With the reports from Bethany, Linda at least had an area to work with. She could get into housing records for the past years, and track purchases she knew Matt might buy. If Mello was stupid and withdrew from the Wammy fund, Linda might be able to trace him further.

But that was a few days ago and Linda was set up in West Covina, not a big city, but not small and off radar. Linda didn't do off radar. She'd bribed a low level member she heard from on an obscure message board to get her Matt's number. Currently, she was waiting on the man to get back to her.

Linda was staying in an out of the way hotel until her apartment papers went through and she'd spent the better part of her day attempting to get rid of her accent.

Obviously, Matt was alive, there was no way that there was another hacker who wore orange goggles in broad daylight. She'd not heard if a blond was with him. Apparently, the men that Matt worked for never actually met him. They'd just call him up and wire money to a bank they owned. Matt had a low level runner pick it up and drop it off at a specified location where he'd pick it up later. None of them were actually willing to give her his number though, so she'd taken to bribery. The man she'd contacted hadn't heard anything about any blonds heading any groups lately either.

Around six p.m., Linda heard a double knock at her door, alerting her to the man who was supposed to deliver Matt's number. She'd waited twenty seconds before getting up to retrieve the sticky note stuck to the outside of the door.

She'd darkened her hair before leaving Wammy's and she'd already found a payphone nearby. It had been hellish trying to find the damn thing but it was as close to untraceable as she was going to get. Once she changed her clothes and memorized the number, she tore up the note and washed it down the sink.

Currently, Linda was at the payphone, hoping that her plan would go off without a hitch. She dialed the number and the second she heard an apathetic 'yeah' she started talking.

"It's Linda, don't ask. Just wanted to say a few things. One, if Mello is with you, tell him that Near has his picture. Two, I'll be using a low level guy to get you some papers that Beth swiped from these two Japanese dudes that stopped by. He'll leave them in the place you go to pick up your pay. They have a sketch of Mello's and Near's faces as well. From what I've found out, this whole Kira mess is not going to end well, so please, try to stay safe."

"Wait! Linda-"

She hung up the phone and walked back to the hotel.

* * *

"Linda? Why'd she call you? How'd she even get your number?"

Matt had been checking on Mello's burns when his phone went off. At first, he'd assumed that it was the guy who'd asked him to check the site. But it had been a shock to hear Linda's voice on the other line. Then came the torrent of information she'd given him, add to that the promise of files that were _stolen_ from incompetent Task Force members. The very very same men who'd been at the base he'd found Mello in.

Not only that but _Near_ of all people had Mello's picture and the fucking Task Force had a sketch. He knew that Linda was the only one in Wammy's capable of sketching Near and Mello's likeness. But, he also knew that Linda wouldn't give them exact replicas.

"Linda's out of Wammy's, she's here apparently, call was relatively local. She wanted to tell me a few things. Apparently, the Task Force has a sketch of you and Near, and Near has your Wammy's picture. Remember Bethany? She got some files from their car when they were at Wammy's and Linda's getting a guy to bring them here."

Mello was quiet.

The two hadn't exactly made up after their fight, not verbally anyways. Mello had come out of the room at around two in the morning. He shook Matt awake and nodded to him then returned to the room, Matt following.

Mello let him sleep next to him again without much fuss.

"So," Matt began, "What's the next move?"

"Wait for the guy. Then get my picture back from Near. We'll need to get proper supplies and set up before all that thought," Mello decided.

"Your burns are healing well, but you're still pretty messed up, your ribs are kind of busted, you know? I don't think you should be trying to-"

"Everyone wants this over as soon as possible Matt, we can't afford to wait."

Matt blinked slowly, staring unabashedly.

"What?"

"Nothing," Matt said quietly. He put down his phone and went back to applying burn cream to Mello's back.

"Right, nothing my ass," Mello muttered.

Matt left Mello alone for the hour it took to collect the papers and a few hours later he was settled down on the couch, getting ready to work. He spent the rest of his day at his computer, gathering general information on Near's SPK and the Task Force headed by the fake L. Mello knew Japanese better than Matt did, so he translated the files to English, occasionally telling Matt to put something down. The files would be kept but having a digital copy was never a bad idea.

When Matt finally convinced Mello to sleep, he gave him another pain killer and hung up his goggles on the bed post. A pleasant smile stretched his lips when he saw Mello's rosary hanging on the opposite. Mello was already lying down, hands resting on his stomach, eyes closed. Matt knew he wasn't asleep, but he was close, so he kissed his forehead and laid down next to him.

He tried not to pull Mello into his arms, tried not to kiss him again or lay on his side and stare. Matt forced himself to train his gaze on the ceiling and keep his hands off his once boyfriend. Mello had changed, obviously, but he was still Mello, and Matt wasn't about to let him go again. But he had to, at least until Mello gave him an answer.

If Mello said yes, that was fantastic. Matt would try his damndest to keep him from all manner of Kira nonsense.

But if Mello said no, that was going to be a lot more difficult.

And Matt wasn't an idiot, he knew which response was more likely.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so classes got cancelled today because of snow, and it's wonderful, so I'm updating today, and I'll try to get another chapter up this weekend.
> 
> Up next, ROAD TRIP. No, seriously, the only thing in the next chapter is a road trip, a little hotel at the end, but mostly road trip. Near is gonna show up in the chapter after next, if my memory serves, so there's something to look forward to.

Matt was out. Mello had sent him to get supplies and run a few errands.

The apartment was quiet without the usual annoying music accompaniment or fight sounds from Matt's video games. Mello sat on the counter, watching the water coalesce on his cup. Earlier, Matt had been making breakfast and Mello had pushed himself up onto the counter. He'd talked with the other about what exactly should be their first step and, through some light arguing, Matt had convinced him that getting in contact with Near might be helpful. It would help him get his picture back after all. But Mello had only agreed on the premise that Matt do some errands for him since he didn't want to go out in public yet.

Since none of his clothes had survived the blast, he was stuck wearing Matt's. For whatever reason, he had an abundance of striped long sleeve shirts. His pants were too big for Mello but so long as they had a stretchy waist band or drawstrings, it was fine. In any case, Mello looked ridiculous. He liked his own clothes, and missed his leather and feathers and dramatic flare. Though, those had been strictly for business purposes, but damn, they were comfortable. Well, maybe not the leather, but that had been the component of his outfit that commanded the most attention so he'd worn it often.

The cup of water was probably something Matt got for him and Mello just hadn't gotten around to drinking it. That would make sense, seeing as there was a pain killer sitting beside it. But he stayed were he was, staring, brain running a mile a minute to make up for his physical lagging.

Seeing Near was definitely a smart move. But Matt wouldn't be coming, at least not to the SPK's main base. Near didn't need to know about him. Besides, Matt wasn't one of L's successors, not really, he was just third place. In all reality, Matt had no reason to get involved with Kira, but Mello had dragged him into it. If that didn't make him feel guilty as hell, then he didn't know what would.

Near could offer up valuable information. After all, he was on much better terms with the Japanese Task Force, and Mello had the element of surprise seeing as everyone thought he was dead. The only ones who knew he was alive were Matt and Linda, because she was smart and she most likely assumed. He doubted she'd tell Near though, doubted she even had a way to contact him.

Then, the next step was actually getting to Near. He'd killed most of the SPK with the Death Note, but he knew Near still had a few people with him. The sheep was stationed in the U.S., what with them being sanctioned by the president. Or was it the FBI? Whoever it was, the SPK was an acknowledged organization. Matt could find the members that were still alive and go from there. Mello could use one of them to get to Near.

It was certainly doable, several things could go wrong of course, but it was more or less a solid plan.

Near wouldn't kill him, Mello knew that. It wasn't Near's style. He followed a 'you don't beat your competition by killing them, you beat them by winning,' philosophy that made Mello grit his teeth. Near wouldn't get his hands dirty, and it was likely that he wouldn't let his little guard dogs do so either.

Mello finally heaved himself off the counter, knocking over the glass in the process.

He felt his heartbeat in his ears as he jumped back, away from the scattered shards. His breathing was only just off kilter. His right hand rested at his hip, where his gun would be, and his left was clutched at his rosary, his index finger hooked through his ring. He let out his breath and waited until his heart returned to his chest to begin picking up the glass and sopping up the water.

When the floor was clean, he made his way to the couch and settled down. He arranged himself so his legs were over the arm, his body barely taking up two of the three cushions. It smelled like Matt, the entire apartment did. It wasn't just cigarette smoke, but that same out of place pine smell that was even more out of place in the city. Mello grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest, inhaling the smell.

Matt.

What about Matt?

What would happen when all was said and done? Would they stay together? Would Matt make him leave? Would they even live?

Of course they would. They had to. Mello would beat Near, and Kira would be locked away. They had to live through it until the end. They had to. It would all work out, they could go off somewhere, away from the world. They could solve cases from the comfort of a small house in a town where they could be nobodies, all the while being the biggest somebodies in the world. Or they could buy a nice apartment with all the anonymity of a big city, working cases together in their office.

Dreams of his future shared life with Matt had only crossed his mind once and they'd been quickly halted. When he was much younger, before their kiss, Mello had imagined leaving with Matt. They would run away to escape the pressures of being L and live a life of their own where no one would think to look for them.

Mello dropped the pillow.

Looking back on it, he'd been pretty stupid.

He was awake when Matt returned, but pretended otherwise, forcing his body to relax.

"Mells?" Matt called softly.

Mello heard a few clatters as Matt set his things on the recently cleared table.

"You asleep?"

After a few seconds, his head was being lifted and Matt slipped onto the cushion beneath it. He put a pillow on his lap and set Mello's head down, his fingers tracing the almost healed burns on Mello's face and into his hair. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, Matt's touch was soothing so he allowed himself the soft attention.

"I'm worried, you know?"

Did Matt have a habit of talking to himself that Mello hadn't noticed yet? That's be impressive considering how long he'd been with him. Though, the habit probably developed while Mello was gone.

"This whole thing, no matter which way you look at it, it's crazy. Notebooks that kill people, a lunatic who thinks himself a god. I worry, Mells. I just got you back, I'm not losing you to this creep, no way. I don't know why this is so important for you, you could get yourself killed. And for what? To beat Near? I don't understand it."

It was quiet after that. Eventually, Matt's fingers in his hair were beginning to make him feel on edge, so he opened his eyes.

"Matt," he said shortly.

"Oh, uh, Mello, hey."

The hand was quickly removed from his person and when he began to get up, Matt was helping him along in an instant. The red head jumped up and nearly ran to the table, returning with a number of shopping bags. Mello felt a bit of his irritation bleed away when he noticed the nervous light in Matt's eyes. He never really could stay mad at him. Evidence being how quickly he'd caved after their pseudo fight, giving Matt his permission to sleep next to him that night.

"Um, I figured your measurements, so everything should pretty much fit. Also, the cashier lady gave me a weird look."

Mello took a few moments to marvel at the clothes that Matt had gotten for him. They weren't as flashy as his old clothes, but it seemed Matt had taken many things into consideration. Most, if not all, of the shirts were made of a softer material, so as not to irritate his skin. Though there was a pair of leather pants in the bottom of one of the bags, among other things that made Mello almost grin wider.

"They're perfect," he said quickly, refusing to meet Matt's eye. "Thanks."

Matt beamed and sat down beside him again, pressing a kiss to his cheek before Mello could react.

"Hey, Mells?" he asked after a moment.

"Hmm?" Mello was going through the other bags, finding chocolate, file folders, coffee, and falsified passports. Casting a look over his shoulder, he spotted a small duffel still on the table, most likely containing guns.

"You're serious about this, right?"

Mello arched a brow. Why ask a question with an obvious answer?

"Of course."

"Okay then."

* * *

"Find out what you can on Halle Lidner, Anthony Rester, and Stephen Gevanni. Those three are the surviving members of Near's little team. They're based in New York, which is on the opposite side of this godforsaken country, so we'll have to do some travelling."

Matt typed away on his laptop. Usually it would be on the coffee table but the surface was now cluttered with highlighted papers, photos, and labeled folders. Mello had even dedicated a wall to pin up information, he ran pieces of colored string to connect bits and pieces, like a spiderweb of sorts.

"Given that they're in New York, we'll have to leave soon. Planes aren't an option right now, we'll have to drive there. I doubt we'll be coming back here, that would be pointless. We can't stay in New York, not so close to them, so we'll set up a state away. If worse comes to worse, we can go farther."

Mello was pacing, reading files and speaking aloud, sharing his half baked plan with Matt. Well, it wasn't half baked so much as it hinged on variables. Go to New York, find one of the members, take them at gunpoint, have them lead him to Near. Then, improvise a way out as he had little to no idea how Near would react afterwards. Matt hadn't made any mention of the fact that Mello kept saying 'we', and he didn't plan on saying anything about it.

"If we get packed up by tonight, leave early tomorrow morning, book a hotel on the way, and drive nonstop, then we could get there in five days."

"Five days? To get across country? Mells, don't you think that's a little-"

"Nonstop Matt, rotation driving. Time is of the essence, now that I'm up and walking, we gotta act fast, we can't afford to waste time. "

With a tired sigh, Matt nodded and began typing again as Mello went on with his planning.

They began packing an hour later, taking files, clothes, and weapons. Matt made sure to pack his equipment and put together a small duffel bag for non perishables, and chocolate bars. The sun was just setting but neither of them felt all that tired.

"I'm gonna go load what we have in my car, okay?" Matt already had the majority of the duffel bags slung over his shoulder.

"Sure," Mello said dismissively as he looked through another file.

Matt was careful not to trip down the stairs, but by the time he reached his car, his arms felt numb. A split second of panic sparked in his chest when he couldn't find his keys, the very thought of having to trek back up the stairs with the bags was dreadul, only for him to remember that they were on the carabiner attached to his belt loop. It took a bit of work but he got everything to fit comfortably in the trunk, there was even a bit of room left. He didn't want to put anything in the back seat. If they were going to be rotation driving, it'd be easier to sleep in the back seat than the passenger.

He jogged back to the apartment, pumping his arms as he did so to try and get feeling back. Mello was right where he left him, though it looked like he was holding a different file.

"I got most of the stuff packed away, you wanna plan a route?" Matt asked, pulling up a map on his only unpacked laptop. If he could see the route once, he could remember it. He was good at driving, he could figure routes and back roads like they were code.

Mello nodded instead of verbally responding so Matt got up again. He'd had to get another bottle of pain killers after Mello burned through the first one. He brought back a glass of water and a pill, the latter of which Mello looked at with disdain before giving in and accepting it.

Matt did most of the talking, knowing how far his car could go on a full tank, plotting along gas stations and highways. Matt wasn't a wanted figure and everyone thought Mello was dead so toll booths shouldn't cause too much trouble. It would be getting through the long stretches of empty road with nothing but desert or farmlands that would be the hard part.

An hour later, their route was mapped out and Mello was beginning to look drowsy.

"Mells, let's go to bed, I'll set an alarm so we can leave on time," he held out a hand, knowing full well that Mello wouldn't take it.

He was right, Mello stood up on his own and walked down the hall to the bedroom. The two got dressed, Mello finally having his own pair. Instead of laying down however, he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Without a word, Matt got the brush from the bathroom and sat behind him, running it through his hair. Mello didn't try to stop him, or move, or make any noise in general, so Matt kept brushing until he was satisfied. He pulled the blond locks into a ponytail and returned the brush to the counter before taking his place beside Mello.

"Mells?"

"Hm?" Mello looked over to him, slightly off balance at the other's tone.

"I've been doing some thinking lately. Uh, I guess, if this is what you're set on, this whole situation with Kira and Near and revenge...I'll stick with you. You don't have to be by yourself, I'm with you now, totally, really really here. Also, I figured I could help, tech know how and all. I mean, I'm doing that already, but like, really helping. I guess I've pretty much been like a uh- a consultant, but now I'm officially on your team. Even though this is all crazy, don't get me wrong..."

Matt continued to ramble but Mello wasn't hearing him. He saw Matt's lips move, saw them form the words, but they weren't reaching him. Not past the 'I'll stick with you' bit. He'd not expected Matt to accept it. He'd expected Matt to go along, if anything then just for the sake of doing so. But now, Matt was officially at his side, not just a weapon in Mello's arsenal.

Acting on impulse, Mello grabbed the back of Matt's head and pulled him closer.

It'd been a while since they'd kissed properly, but Matt still had the same effect as he did when they were younger. Warmth and comfort, protection, Matt was safe. Matt was right. He was stupid to think it would ever feel otherwise. He was stupid to think that leaving Matt was the right thing to do. He was stupid to think that he didn't love Matt like he used to.

It took a moment for Matt to reciprocate, but when he did, he wrapped his arms around Mello and pulled him closer until there was only a heartbeat between them. Surprisingly, he was the one who pulled back first and Mello opened his eyes in question. Matt's grin was just as he remembered; full of love and just the slightest bit tired. He pressed a kiss to Mello's cheek before sighing contently.

"I've missed you."


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about the only productive thing I've done all day. The snow is still ridiculous and I didn't want to get out of bed this morning so I just watched Political Animals, and the new Haikyuu episode, and I slept. That's about it.
> 
> Okay, so this road trip time is in fact possible, it's just exhausting. I've made this trip before and I slept for sixteen hours after the fact. Near is gonna be showing up next chapter. Also, someone needs to take the italics function from me, it's a power I don't deserve. Oh, the little brother Matt talks about briefly, he was really only mentioned in chapter thirteen, mainly because I'm trash and I like to think these boys had siblings. That's about it, until next week!

The empty desert offered no interest to Matt. They'd passed through the brightly lit casinos and resorts of Vegas already, and the only view afforded afterwards was that of miles and miles of dirt and low rolling hills. There was nothing to entertain him, or keep him from getting drowsy aside from the three energy drinks in the passenger seat. Mello was snoozing in the backseat, belly up with one of his legs up on the seat, bent so his knee grazed the bottom of the headrest. Matt had made him take off his boots because no way was he letting his upholstery get ruined, even if it was Mello.

Speaking of which, he'd been unusually quiet since they'd started the drive. When Matt started the car, Mello had leaned his against the window after fiddling with the radio for a bit. He'd not said a word until they were passing though Gardnerville, and that was just to say that he was going to sleep. Granted, they'd only just woken up a few hours previous, but Matt had the sneaking suspicion that Mello either hadn't slept, or he hadn't slept well.

Matt based his thoughts on their impromptu kiss the night before.

He'd enjoyed it of course, but it was clear that it had been a sort of jerk reaction from Mello. It was nice knowing that the other's instinct was to kiss him. But he wasn't stupid, it was clear that it was only impulse and not some heartfelt 'I love you' from the moody ex-Mafioso.

Mello must have stayed up contemplating it himself. Matt wouldn't put it past him. They'd have to talk about it eventually, and that would be hell on earth, he knew that much. With his own feelings, and Mello's penchant for avoiding heart to hearts and explaining himself, that little 'talk' was not something Matt was looking forward to.

It could wait.

There were plenty of states between them and New York, and there would be times when they were both awake. Maybe when they were driving through Kansas, there would be lots of empty space for them to fill then. Yeah, that should work.

Mello was up a few hours after the sun rose, and climbed into the passenger seat, staring with a raised brow at the empty energy drink bottles on the floor.

"What state are we in?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Utah, just entered actually. Nevada only took about two and a half hours," Matt said, looking at the beauty that was Mello when he was half awake.

"Right, Utah, that's the one with the salt lake right? Why anyone would have salt lake is beyond me."

"Mells," Matt chuckled, "It's not that weird."

"Yes it is, you can't swim in it, or fish, or do anything recreational, so what's the point?" Mello opened up the glove box, pulling out one of the many chocolate bars he'd crammed there.

"I don't know, we can always stop by a library and see if they've got a state history book or something," he said sarcastically. Mello just grumbled and inhaled his chocolate.

Matt wondered if Mello was eating them because he wanted to or because he needed to. But how would he bring that up? ' _Hey, Mells, I know we haven't talked about this in a long time, but I was just wondering if you were still using chocolate as a coping method, or if you were eating it because you wanted to like you were doing when you left me?'_

Real smooth, that'd go over well.

Matt sighed and flexed his grip on the steering wheel. Mello caught the motion but said nothing. Around nine in the morning, Mello twisted around to get to the backseat where the food backpack was. He pulled out two granola bars and a jar of peanut butter. Opening up one of the bars, he held it up to Matt's mouth so he could take a bite.

"Thanks," Matt mumbled.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Mello said, opening up the peanut butter.

Matt glanced at Mello as he rooted around for a spoon and then proceeded to eat straight from the jar. He tucked his feet up onto the seat, fidgeting around in his seat belt until he got in a comfortable enough position. He leaned his head against the closed window and held the spoon in his mouth, closing his eyes. If Matt looked hard enough, he could see the worry humming beneath Mello's skin.

"Eyes on the road, Matt," Mello muttered around his spoon.

"You can't even see me!" he said indignantly.

"Call it instinct."

Matt set a hand on Mello's leg and patted his knee, returning his eyes to the road. After a minute or two, he felt one of Mello's hand over top of his and he grinned.

He pulled off the highway when the gas light flickered on and found a station a few minutes away. Mello opted to stay in the car, taking another spoonful of peanut butter before putting it away, and Matt gave him an affectionate hair ruffle before making his way inside. The cashier gave him a suspicious once over as he walked in but Matt paid no mind and hurried to the back. He picked up two bottles of chocolate milk for Mello and a few sodas. When he go the counter, he added a pack of gum and showed the cashier his I.D. as he asked for two packs of Marlboro cigarettes. Once his purchases were bagged and fifty dollars worth of gas was ready to be pumped, Matt gave a sarcastic salute and went back outside.

He handed the bag to Mello and began pumping gas, tapping his fingers against his thighs while he waited for it to finish. As he climbed into the driver's side, Mello was cracking open one of the bottles of chocolate milk. He gave Matt a look that dared him to say something.

Matt opted for silence.

* * *

It was somewhere in Colorado that Mello started getting edgy so Matt found a rest stop and pulled into the lot. Almost immediately, Mello jumped out of the car and began running laps around the main building. Matt stayed by the car and took a smoke break. The stop was pretty empty, which wasn't terribly odd but there was usually a trucker or a school bus.

Shrugging, Matt burned through four cigarettes in about ten minutes. Mello returned soon after with a bottle of juice from the vending machine and a few packets of candy. It looked like he'd washed his face as well, his fringe was damp.

"Come on, we've wasted enough time already," he said, slipping into the driver's seat.

"I don't know what you think you're doing Mello," Matt said, bending low to lean into the window.

"I'm driving, get your ass in the back and sleep," he ordered, leaning dangerously close to Matt. Somewhat startled, he didn't notice when Mello slipped the keys from his vest pocket.

Blinking slowly behind his goggles, Matt just gave a tired chuckle and nodded.

"Wake me up when we get to Kansas. Or sooner, and don't kill my baby okay? Actually, just wake me up when the tank is half empty."

Mello wasn't really listening but he got the gist. Don't crash the car, get gas before Matt could wake up, and keep driving. Then again, Matt would probably have to buy the gas anyways, unless Mello wanted to risk getting his face on camera. Whatever, it was Kansas, who would know him? As far as he knew, there wasn't a mafia branch in Kansas.

Or any violent hierarchy based groups for that matter.

* * *

Mello parked at the second pump and turned to look at Matt.

His goggles were hung on the lock peg and his boots were on the floor, wedged between the backpack an the front seat. He was on his side, curled up to face the seat back. Mello slipped into the passenger seat so he could see him better, propping himself up on the center console.

Before he could waste more time staring, Mello got out of the car and double checked to see if Matt had moved at all. When he hadn't, Mello slammed the door shut. The noise woke Matt, and he jumped up, hitting his head on the low ceiling. He fixed Mello with a glare through the tinted window.

"I thought I said not to kill my baby," Matt muttered, snapping his goggles on as Mello opened the door for him.

"She's not dead, Matt," Mello huffed.

They entered the station together, Matt headed for the bathroom while Mello perused the candy aisle. When they both came to the counter, the cashier's eyes were immediately drawn to Mello's face. No one moved for a good minute and a half, then Mello slammed his candy onto the counter, fixing the young man with a glare that could freeze hell.

Hands jittery, the cashier scanned their items and opened up the second pump, keep his eyes fixed to the counter top until they'd left.

Mello stomped to the car and climbed in, slamming the door but Matt couldn't be bothered about it. After filling up the tank and putting a few miles behind them, he sighed.

"Mells-"

"Shut up."

"No."

Mello kicked off his shoes and tucked his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

"No? No? What is it Matt? I'm aware that I have a massive burn on my face, I'm aware that it attracts attention. My self-esteem doesn't need stroking," his voice held an almost undetectable tremor, but his gaze was steeled, fixed on the road.

"I'm not gonna try to boost your esteem, Mells, not now anyways. Besides, you wouldn't let anything I say get through your thick head."

The sun was falling fast and Matt flipped on his headlights. Now was as good a time as any to talk, considering that there would be nothing but rural farmland for a few hours.

"Mells, before we left-"

"I kissed you, yeah, why are you bringing it up?" Mello snapped.

"You didn't mean it did you? I mean, you might have but it's more likely that you just went on instinct and not because you actually..." Matt exhaled slowly, willing his emotions to drain. He glanced at Mello, waiting to see if he would say anything in response.

"What do you want me to say? This isn't exactly a priority right now."

"But it's important."

Mello was quiet for a moment before he put his legs down, crossing one over the other. He folded his arms over his chest but kept his eyes ahead of him. When he spoke, his voice was significantly calmer.

"Are you sure that you actually love me? Absolutely?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Mello gave an angry huff and tightened his fists.

"What do you think? I left, I left you behind. I've killed people, damn it! I still haven't wrapped my head around how you loved me the first time around, so maybe you can see how I'm having an even harder time now trying to understand why you don't hate me!"

Abruptly, the car swerved and Matt parked it half way off the empty road. He clicked off his seat belt and kicked off his shoes before shoving Mello's leg down so he could slip into his lap. Matt took his face in hand, more so the right side than the left, and looked him in the eye.

"You're Mello. You may have changed but you're still the Mello that I knew at Wammy's. The same Mello who would sleep with me or talk to me on the roof, the one that got excited whenever we were allowed to go into town and that shop had a new kind of chocolate. You're the same Mello that dyed my hair purple and let me lay on top of you in a snow drift. You're the Mello was the first friend and the first reason I smiled since my brother died and I owe you all the love I can give. And if you still question that then I don't know what to tell you. Have I forgiven you for leaving me with nothing but a note? Have I forgiven you for not calling me to let me know you were okay? No, no I haven't. But that doesn't mean I hate you. I will never hate you Mello."

Blinking slowly, Mello brought one of his hands up to cover Matt's.

"So, where does that leave me, huh?" he asked at last.

"Figuring out whether or not you still love me," Matt said softly, "And if you don't, then I promise, I'll take a step back, and I won't bring it up again. But I don't think that's the case anymore. You're focused on beating Near, and catching Kira. That's what's in the forefront of your mind and I understand that. When you left, you-"

"When I left," Mello sat up straighter and put his hands on Matt's shoulders, "I wished that I'd brought you along. I slipped up more times than I can possibly count, and I missed you. Then, when I got going, I was glad I hadn't taken you with me. You would've been torn apart in seconds. It's different, you shot collateral damage, people who would have died in minutes anyways. It was so different. You wouldn't have survived. I was, and still am, glad that you weren't there for what I had to do and that you didn't seem me how I was. I'm still that broken kid from Wammy's, but I'm worse, Matt, I am so much worse and it's not healthy. Especially for you. I haven't forgiven myself for what I've done and I don't expect you to. But do not think, even for a moment, that this is gonna be like it was back then, because it won't be. I _need_ to beat Near and I _need_ to beat him to Kira. I will not be satisfied until that is accomplished. But also, I have to keep you safe. You may not be number one on my priority list, but you are important to me Mail Jeevas, and I don't want to see you dead. Got that?"

The two young men, they weren't even twenty yet, stared at each other, willing the other to speak first.

Matt slumped against Mello and moved his hands from his face to pull him into a tight hug.

"That's nice to hear."

With a kiss to Mello's cheek, Matt climbed into the driver's seat and started the car. He held his hand to Mello and didn't start driving until he felt the familiar weight and shape of the other's hand in his.

The problem wasn't quite resolved but that was as good as it was going to get for a while.

* * *

After checking into their hotel in Pennsylvania, Mello commandeered the shower as soon as the door was open.

Matt began setting up the room, fluffing pillows and unpacking bags. He set up his equipment on the coffee table and checked the batteries on some of the laptops, plugging one of them in to charge. He put their remaining food and drinks into the mini fridge and made a mental note to do laundry the following day. By the time the room was completely made up, Mello was out of the shower, dressed in pajama pants and still drying his hair.

"Your turn," Mello said, gesturing towards the bathroom. Matt nodded and gave him a kiss before grabbing a towel.

Matt didn't take as long as Mello had, but it did take a while to get four and a half days of filth off of one's body. Mello had used most of the shampoo so they'd have to get more soon. His hair was a bit greasy so he washed it twice before just standing under the shower head. He didn't really want to start genuflecting in the shower, he was done with those days.

Quickly, Matt shut off the water and toweled off. Once dressed, he found Mello waiting on one of the beds, a brush beside him though his hair was still a damp mess.

Settling his towel over his head, Matt picked up the brush and sat behind him, pulling him closer. Every so often, between brushes, Matt ran his fingers through Mello's hair, gently scratching at his scalp. His hair was uneven, Matt had cut it so certain sections fell over burned patches. But, with the shaggy layers, it didn't look so bad.

When Mello's hair was free of tangles, Matt set the brush down and returned their towels to the bathroom. It was close to midnight and the both of them needed sleep. Matt shut the blinds on the window and turned the lock on the door before cutting out the lights and wishing Mello a goodnight.

He climbed into the other bed, no knowing if Mello would appreciate company.

It was some twenty minutes later that his mattress dipped and a slim arm was slung over his waist. Mello shifted until he was comfortably cuddled up to Matt's chest and within seconds, he was asleep.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five more chapters! I promise, this was supposed to be up yesterday but someone told me to watch Zankyou no Terror and I was up until six in the morning, and I wasn't about to upload a chapter when I was barely lucid, that being said, now I've got a short half way written for that.
> 
> Anyways, read on!
> 
> -Dialogue between Near and Mello is from Episode 30

"Mells! Turn on the TV!" Matt vaulted over the back of the couch, grabbing the remote despite the fact that it negated what he'd just told Mello to do.

"What the hell?" Mello was clutching his coffee, having quickly moved it off the table before Matt could knock it over. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, only for Matt to snatch it back and changed the channel to one that showed a delayed live broadcast.

"The chat rooms just exploded all of a sudden!" Matt shouted, pointing to the U.S. president who'd appeared on screen.

"-anyone who defies Kira head on will be killed, that is a fact. We are not acknowledging Kira as a symbol of justice, we are simply saying that, as a country, we will not take any action against him."

The president walked away from the podium as the reporters erupted into what could possibly be considered a riot.

A smile broke onto Mello's face, it soon gave way to laughter. The reaction wasn't what Matt had expected. He jumped up onto his knees, angrily gesturing to the retreating man of power before the feed cut out.

"What's funny about that Mells? The U.S. is bowing down to Kira, you heard the old dude, they won't take any action- oh."

"Yeah," Mello nodded, pleased that Matt understood, "Near's little SPK is disbanded now. Without the U.S. to back them up, they're nothing. They're small enough as is, thanks to me, and now the president has given up on them. This is it, Matt, I go tonight, get my picture back, trade a few words with the brat, and then we carry on."

Matt sunk back to sit properly and exhaled harshly, pushing the air up so his bangs flew off his face.

"So, I should probably get back to my laptop yeah? Double check the info I've got on Near's lackeys."

The second he made it to his computer, Mello was out the door. Matt's car keys were still on the table so the other wouldn't be going far. He moved himself to the armchair by the window so he could smoke without having to deal with Mello yelling at him about the smell later. He typed lazily, pausing as he set up a few programs to run by themselves. His eyes darted to his handheld on the bed and he attempted to reach it without getting out of his chair. Matt ended up slumped over the arm, one of his feet hooked on the chair leg to keep him from falling. His fingers brushed the edge of the Game Boy, and he scowled as a twinge ran from his shoulder to his hand. Yeah, that was great, he pulled a muscle trying to reach a stupid game, that was officially a new low.

"Oh, duh," he tugged on the blanket, planning on getting the handheld when it fell onto the floor where he could reach it. Instead, the stupid thing skittered under the bed.

"Damn it."

Matt's laptop pinged and he pulled himself back up into his chair, rolling his shoulder as he did so. He lit another cigarette as he perused the information. Everything was arranged neatly on the screen and Matt's trained eyes easily picked up the specifics he needed. He pulled his new disposable cell, courtesy of Mello's bright thinking, from his pocket and dialed the blond's number. Unsurprisingly, the call went straight to voicemail.

"Hey, so it looks like the girl lives off site, the other two guard dogs don't have any close accommodations outside the HQ building. Security seems pretty easy to get into but I don't doubt that he's got a program set up to back-hack anyone who tries to get in. It'd be best to just leave it for now until I can scope it out a little more."

Matt sent the voicemail and put out his cigarette. He tipped his head back, blowing out smoke and not stopping until there wasn't a whisper of air in his lungs. It was gonna be a long night. He could feel it in his bones.

* * *

Mello returned looking slightly more irritated than he had when he left.

"Um, I got Halle's address and a few of her relatives, you know, just in case. Got all the specs on the building, what they've got in there and when it got there. I got what they're carrying and the precautionary measures they have set up should something happen. Basically, anything you'd classify as useful, I've got them, birth records to," Matt said, a small but prideful grin on his lips. He turned the laptop so Mello could see the compiled data that Matt had figured would be most useful.

"Good," Mello said quickly, kicking off his boots. Matt didn't think anything of it until Mello began taking off his shirt. It was startling, only because Mello didn't seem to mind that he was putting his scarred skin on display.

'And you're doing what now?"

"First battle of the war, Matt, I'm going to be dressed to kill."

"Dramatic much?"

"How long have you known me?" Mello asked with a grin.

Matt felt something light up inside him, and he smiled. Their first easy, not hostile, semi normal conversation, and it reminded him of their Wammy's days.

"What's got you so happy?" Mello called over his shoulder. He'd only just turned to the small closet, looking for something to wear.

"A little blond," Matt answered without thinking.

"I'm taller than you, idiot."

"Who said I was talking about you?"

Mello stepped away from the closet, still shirtless.

"Call it a hunch."

When Mello was finally dressed, the atmosphere wasn't so lighthearted. They sunk into a professional, and slightly somber, mood while they reviewed the plan for the night. Matt would drop Mello off a street away from Halle's place. Halle would get Mello inside the SPK building, on the way he'd wheedle some information out of her, and when it was time to leave, Matt would pick him up. Mello figured that there was about a twenty-five per cent chance that Near would figure out that Matt was with him. A one in four chance then, Matt was iffy about it. But he'd told Mello that he was going to be with him through his whole 'beat Near and, oh yeah, also capture Kira' thing so he didn't have much of a choice.

* * *

He'd heard L talk about the bells before, loud church bells that only the detective could hear. In his younger years, he had thought the man crazy. After all, no sane person had auditory hallucinations. Then again, Mello hadn't exactly been sane himself at the time.

But now he understood what L was talking about. The bells had started ringing faintly when Matt dropped him off and drove away. They grew louder when he aimed the gun at Halle, but they could be blocked out so it wasn't so bad. He'd hate to experience the bells like L did, crashing like thunder and crippling.

Getting Halle to take him to the SPK building was a lot easier than Mello expected. The woman was compliant to the point that Mello second guessed his need for a gun. However, he'd gone over Lidner's file with Matt, the woman was dangerous without a firearm so it was best to take precautions. She led him right to the front door and upwards.

Mello had no doubt that Near would let him walk in, it was the sheep's guard dogs that he was worried about.

They paused at the door, Mello knew there were security cameras in place, Near knew he was there. It would all end one of two ways. One, Near would let him walk in, already knowing why Mello was there, and then he would let Mello walk out. Or two, there would be guns on him the second the door opened, he'd end up with a superficial gunshot wound and be taken as a hostage.

The second option didn't seem likely but Mello didn't like the first option much at all. It would be played by Near, led by Near, every move dictated, every word exchanged was to hinge on Near.

And that made Mello more than a little bit angry.

The doors opened up and Mello kept his gun trained on Halle's head.

The two guard dogs, Rester and Gevanni, already had their guns out. But his eyes were on Near, the stupid kid was encased in some sort of car track, and his back was to Mello. Whether his position was due to his inability to actually turn around or the fact that he just wanted to piss Mello off was unknown.

"Mello, welcome."

Before Mello could utter a reply, the American began shouting at him to drop his weapon. He heard two clicks, signifying that the safety on their guns was most definitely off. Mello grimaced, getting shot was looking more likely than he originally thought.

"Everyone, please put away your guns."

Near's back was still to Mello, the younger sounded bored with the goings on around him.

Mello waited until Rester and Gevanni lowered their guns before moving his away from Halle. He tossed back his head and took stock of the room. At that point, the tension level was high. Weapons were still out, not stowed, and they could be drawn at any second. Matt had done his research, these men had experience, and while Mello was no crack shot, he had no doubt that they could put a bullet between his eyes before he could take aim.

"It seems that things have been going just as you planned, Near," he said, forcing bravado and control into his voice. He was right though. Near, despite being disbanded by the president, still had lackeys, still had his resources. Not to mention the fact that Mello had waltzed right through his door. He knew Mello wouldn't shoot Lidner, or the other two, and as much as he'd like to, Mello wouldn't shoot Near. The Japanese Task Force was in disarray after the death of the older Yagami, so they were out of commission for the time being, leaving Near to operate on his own.

Yes, it was all working out for Near.

Mello hated it.

"Yes, and I take it you've heard all about the second L from Lidner by now. I've pretty much figured out who Kira is, and it's mostly thanks to everything you've done."

In retrospect, it was probably the stupidest thing Mello had done yet, blowing up the mafia warehouse aside. Rage lit up his head, and his gun was on Near before he knew what he was doing. As expected, Gevanni and Rester had their guns trained on him in a second. It wasn't the time to be getting angry, but he was, damn it. How dare Near. How dare the stupid little sheep. He hated it, hated that he'd inadvertently helped the kid.

"Shut up, Near! I'm not just a tool for you to use in order to solve your puzzles, you know?" His voice felt foreign, hollow like he wasn't the one saying them. He hadn't felt this type of rage for a long while. Even at Wammy's, he hadn't hated Near so much as he did at that moment. Back then, that was just rivalry. But now it was something else entirely. Mello could vividly see himself pulling the trigger, emptying his clip into Near's stupid fluffy head. But that would result in his own body being riddled by bullets.

"Mello, if you really want to shoot me then go ahead and do it," Near's back was still to him, but Mello could venture a guess that his face was dull and blank. Near thought he was safe, thought that Mello wouldn't pull the god damned trigger.

Suddenly, Mello didn't care anymore. Maybe he wouldn't shoot to kill, but he would sure as hell shoot the damn kid's leg or arm, enough to keep him immobile. He started to apply pressure to the trigger and was about to fire when Halle, the stupid woman, jumped in front of him. He took his finger off the trigger, but only barely.

"If you shoot him then the rest of us will have no choice but to shoot you to. What will it solve if both of you die? That's just what Kira wants."

Damn woman was right, of course she just had to be. Mello dropped his gun, staying stiff until the guard dogs did the same. He felt a fraction of his fire ebb away as it was replaced with a spark of pain that quickly spread along the edge of his scarred skin. Halle stepped back, and since she was no longer in immediate danger, Rester and Gevanni visibly relaxed.

"You have a good point," Mello was loathe to admit it, "Anyway, I'm only here for one thing. I came back to take that photograph you have."

Why Near had seen fit to take his picture was another mystery entirely, one Mello planned to puzzle over once all the Kira nonsense was over and done with. But at the moment, he didn't want to put too much thought towards it.

"Of course," Near murmured, "I got it from the orphanage, there was only one and no copies have been made. I've already gone ahead and dealt with everyone who knows your face, both inside and outside of Wammy's House, they'll keep quiet."

Again, it begged the question, why? Mello was a rival, doing this only helped him. Why would Near go to such lengths. Did that mean he talked to Linda? Is that how Linda knew? Near could just as easily be lying. He could have a copy hidden away for leverage.

But that wasn't his style.

Near tossed the photo behind him, and Mello caught it with ease. He hardly recognized himself; thin cheeks and empty eyes, something that wasn't quite a smile playing on his lips. He turned the photo over to see a 'Dear Mello,' written there. Was Near intentionally trying to piss him off?

"I can't say a hundred per cent for certain, but it should be impossible for you to be killed by the notebook. Is that the only business you had with me, Mello?"

The original plan had consisted of getting his picture back and leaving, nothing more. But with the knowledge that Near had apparently gone to such lengths, he had to reciprocate in some way. Debt was not something Mello was keen on having, his eternal debt to Matt aside, especially if that debt was to Near.

"Near," the bells started to ring louder, they could no longer be blocked out, "Let's get one thing straight, I have no intention of working together with you on this."

"Yes, I know."

"At the same time, I can't just take my photo and leave, that wouldn't be right. So, I'll settle my debt."

His voice still sounded false, not reaching his ears properly. He continued on anyways, knowing that he had Near's attention.

"The killer notebook, it belongs to a Shinigami, whoever touches it is able to see a god of death."

Mello knew that the little bit of information he'd given was not something that Near was privy to. No way the second L would tell him, and Near hadn't gotten anywhere close to a Death Note. It was something that Mello had a leg up on. It was Near's decision to accept it or not.

"That's crazy," Rester said.

"Who the hell would believe something like that?" Gevanni added.

"I would, I believe him completely. What good would it do for him to tell an outrageous lie like that? Even if he had something to gain, he could at least come up with a more believable story. Therefore, these gods of death must exist."

Outrageous lie, Mello scoffed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. In a world where notebooks killed people, gods of death shouldn't be that far of a stretch.

"The notebook I obtained had previously belonged to another Shinigami, perhaps even Kira himself. Also, some of the rules written inside are actually fake. That's all I can tell you for now."

Even though Sidoh had disappeared, damned flighty pigeon, he'd been of use. He knew that Near was in regular contact with the second L so he could probably do more with the information than Mello could. If he wanted to, he could get in contact with the Task Force, but he didn't think they'd be willing to talk after the death of Soichiro.

Mello turned around and began walking. The bravado was fading, he felt tired, his thoughts began to spiral. He slipped a hand into his pocket and paused at the door.

"Near."

"Mello."

He pulled out the chocolate bar that Matt had given him when he dropped him off, and bit it into it.

"Which one of us is gonna reach Kira first I wonder?"

"The race is on," he could practically hear the smile on the runt's face.

"We're both headed towards the same destination, I'll be waiting for you," if he tried hard enough, Mello could probably make himself believe it.

As he walked away, he could have sworn he heard a mumbled 'right' from Near before the door shut.

It took twenty minutes to find Matt's car and by that time, Mello's spiraling thoughts had devolved back into irritation but were growing progressively closer to anger. It was going to be a long shot, Mello beating Near. It always had been. The one time he'd managed to beat near was the test that Near had forfeited back at Wammy's. Near was always the one that L was going to choose, Mello had no doubt.

Which was why he had to win, he absolutely had to.

Matt didn't say anything when Mello slammed the passenger door shut and began to chew angrily on the rest of his chocolate bar. He was glad for that. If he was forced to talk, he might snap at Matt and break the fragile little bridge that they'd worked hard to build.

After a few hours of driving, they made it back and Mello had Matt look at plane tickets. There was only so much they could accomplish in the U.S. Eventually, they'd have to get to Japan and there would most definitely be a confrontation. A confrontation was not something Mello wanted though. A confrontation would almost certainly result in death.

"Hey, Mells?" It was the fist thing Matt had said since he picked Mello up.

"Hmm?"

"Did something go wrong with Near?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You'e been moody and quiet since, and I was just wondering-"

"Don't."

"Mello, if something's wrong, you can tell me."

"Nothing's wrong Matt," he snapped.

The other flinched back and Mello immediately took a step back, trying to push the anger away.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he mumbled.

The water was cold, it had to be, anything hotter than room temperature made his scars itch. He'd messed up. Definitely and without a doubt. Matt could easily be angry with him, but Mello knew that he wouldn't be. Matt was loyal as a dog. Loyal to Mello in a way that probably wasn't healthy. Scratch that, it definitely wasn't healthy. But he'd be damned if he wasn't grateful for it.

When he was dressed, he slung a towel around his neck so his hair didn't drip water onto his back. Matt was asleep on his bed, his computer screen just beginning to fade to black. Mello moved it from the table and grabbed a blanket. He dried his hair, dropping the towel to the floor before climbing under the covers behind Matt.

"G'night Matty."


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is very rare that I update on Mondays, but I had no homework, so I figured 'why not?'. I am big time hashing details in this chapter. I just need someone to make a linear timeline of events, down to the microscopic details, because damn it. So yeah, anyways, we've got some stuff to look forward to in Chapter 26! More flashbacks! Angst! Angst! And more angst!
> 
> Also, I absolutely adore the headcanon that Mello is Russian. I know it's disputed, from what I've seen people think he's either Russian, German or Slovenian, I think. I haven't seen any definite source or confirmation, for this story's purpose, he's Russian. But hey, if you've heard anything, let me know!

Mello woke first, surprised that Matt wasn't already up. The other was snoring softly, his face partially buried in a pillow, it was a wonder that he hadn't smothered himself in his sleep. Mello eased off the bed, careful not to disturb Matt, and headed for the shower.

The Task Force was still in L.A., which made leaving for New York a rather poor plan in hindsight. But it was necessary. It wouldn't be too hard to get back, flying would be faster but he figured Matt wouldn't take the leaving behind of his precious car very well. While Mello had been with Near, Matt had gotten his digital hands on some files that were now secured on his computer. Even if Near's system tracked the copied documents to Matt, what was he gonna do? Steal them back?

Leaning against the tile wall, Mello ran a hand through his hair, not bothering to wash it since he'd done so the night previous.

"Damn it," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the water and the fan whirring above him.

"Hey, Mells?" Matt knocked on the door.

"What?"

"You almost done?"

Mello turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist.

"Coming out now," he muttered as he opened the door.

Matt brushed right by him.

Sighing, Mello slipped into some comfortable clothes, not planning on going anywhere. He grabbed the flashdrive that Matt had copied the files to, and one of the laptops so he could start going through them. He probably should have done so when they got back, but the drive was a few hours long and he was tired.

While the computer powered up, Mello started a pot of coffee. It wasn't his favorite thing in the world, too bitter, but it was useful. And Matt liked it. Judging by how groggy he looked when he was at the door, he'd need it. Besides, Mello wasn't above making a peace offering.

He remembered how Matt took his coffee from the few times he'd actually devoted attention to watching the other make it. He'd just finished when Matt came out of the bathroom. He wore a pair of loose jeans hanging low on his hips and a towel over his head, no shirt in sight. Mello cleared his throat and held out the coffee cup, looking anywhere but Matt.

Mello only looked up when he felt the barest brush of fingers against his own when Matt accepted the cup.

"I, uh-" Mello cleared his throat again, turning to face Matt properly and squaring up his stance, "I didn't mean to snap at you last night."

Matt wasn't wearing his goggles, without the orange lenses obscuring his eyes, he was an open book.

Mello saw something clashing there, Matt was biting something back, and that was no good. He couldn't lose Matt's l- what? Trust? Faith? Camaraderie? Whatever it was, he wasn't willing to let it go. So Mello took a half step forward and kissed Matt's still wet still warm cheek. It last only a second before Mello moved away and picked up the laptop.

* * *

Goggles in place, Matt watched Mello out of the corner of his eye. The other had papers splayed in some sort of systematic chaos. He had a highlighter between his lips and three different colored pens in hand, switching between them with relative ease. Papers were colored and highlighted, important details underlined and circled. Another sheet held letters that weren't English. A few years out of language practice had stripped Matt back down to English with just enough Spanish, French, and Japanese to roughly interpret a conversation.

However, Mello wasn't writing in any language that he remembered, which led Matt to believe it was Russian.

He remembered from their days at Wammy's that whenever Mello was stressed, overworked, or entirely too comfortable, his English would slip away and his mother tongue would take its place until he realized that no one understood a word he was saying. He once held a full conversation with a befuddled Linda and on another occasion had cussed out Sheridan, later giving Matt the translation when he told him that he wasn't speaking English.

Matt continued his work, finding out what he could about the Task Force members back in L.A. and when they would be going back. Seeing as the U.S. was no longer a threat to Kira, they'd have to leave soon. Though Matt still saw the whole situation as utterly ridiculous.

From what little Mello had gleaned from Near, and what Matt had gotten from their system, the evidence pretty much spelled Light Yagami. The false rules were no doubt his idea to clear his name and impede the investigation. Mello had mentioned a Shinigami called Sidoh, and the combination of blunt and vague clues he'd received from him.

Besides what they already knew, the whole plan was turning to mush.

Throughout his sleuthing, Matt periodically checked on the Kira message boards he'd managed to find. Since most of the world was publicly accepting Kira as a force of justice, the underground support had started to surface, making them easier to find. With millions of users online at any given time, and an alert set up, Matt was able to keep up with any potentially important information.

One of his alerts pinged and he opened up the browser. He read the rapidly appearing lines of text and copied down the details in a separate document. When everything was copied down, Matt turned on the T.V. He didn't bother changing the channel because every news network, major and minor, was covering the story.

Mello looked up from his papers and after a few seconds, his pen dropped from his mouth.

Kira supporters, and probably a number of people who just enjoyed rioting, were attempting to beat down the doors to the SPK building. The location of the building wasn't public information, and it was only due to Matt finding out where Halle lived that Mello got inside. For so many people to know where to go, to show up ready to break it down, was not something that could simply happen accidentally.

Which meant that Kira had to be involved.

If Light Yagami watched the news, he'd be stupid not to, he'd know that the SPK was disbanded. The timing was too perfect. Get in contact with the president, force him to give up the location of the SPK, send the location to a second party who was either a great supporter or an accomplice, and they would organize the riot. It was simple.

One look at Mello assured Matt that he was thinking the same thing. Mello didn't speak though, only stared in sort of captivation as Near's little palace began to crumble.

"Police," he said suddenly.

"What?" Matt asked.

"The police will be called to break up the riot, even if it is in favor of Kira, riots cannot be tolerated. They'll have full tactical gear, face covering helmets and the like. Near and the SPK will be able to get out that way. We found out that Kira, or the second Kira, can kill with juts a face. Whichever Kira has that power, will most likely be watching the news and they'll see them come out. Near's gonna need a diversion though, something to get the camera off of them. Because if Kira or Kira Two see the names, they can easily cross check them with actual police officers, any left over will no doubt be killed," Mello rattled off, his eyes glued to the screen.

Matt found himself staring at Mello. The boy was amazing and he felt the familiar swell of puppy love that started the messy downhill snowball to hell. Mello had figured all that just from a few seconds of television time.

Not fit to be L's successor his ass.

"There it is," Mello whispered.

Returning his attention to the T.V., Matt watched as money literally rained from the sky. The rioters were effectively distracted and whoever Light/Kira had as his second party moved the cameras away from the SPK entrance as the officers poured out. There was a gap of little less than a minute before the cameras returned but it was long enough. The last of the officers came out and no one was left, Near was out with his guard dogs and Halle.

"The little sheep did it," Mello scowled.

Of course, Matt knew that Mello didn't really want Near dead. The kid was his competition, his drive for god's sake. And, perhaps, Matt should feel jealous or somewhat offended because of that. But he couldn't bring himself to be.

* * *

They threw their things in the trunk, planning on hightailing it back to L.A. Since the Task Force knew nothing about Matt and presumed Mello dead, it was the safest bet. Besides, with Near in hiding, they had no reason to be on the East Coast.

Matt climbed into the driver's seat, Mello already situated in the passenger scrolling through something on his phone. Twisting the key in the ignition, Matt held out his hand, waiting until Mello looked up to question why they weren't moving.

It took two minutes and three seconds, but Mello finally put down the phone and turned towards him. Matt kept his eyes fixed ahead of him and heard Mello's resigned sigh before he caved.

The drive back was quicker than their initial journey. They made less stops, took more direct routes, it was racing down highways with the windows down and Mello hanging half way out, screaming to empty fields.

When they returned to Matt's apartment, it was nearing two in the morning. So they lugged their duffel bags up the stairs and collapsed alongside each other on the couch. Mello was tired, so he didn't bother attempting to kick Matt off. But the couch wasn't exactly made for two people. Matt seemed to have a solution to that problem. He lifted Mello and slid under him, settling his hands on his back. Mello was sure that if he weren't so exhausted, he would have protested, but Matt was warm and the rise and fall of his chest put him to sleep in seconds.

They managed a meager three hours of sleep before one of Matt's programs began beeping incessantly at him, alerting them to the fact that there was movement in Halle's apartment. With a tired grown, Matt slowly moved himself out from under Mello, trying his best not to disturb him further. It would take him a moment or two to get his bearings. Matt stared angrily at the time displayed on his computer screen. It was still dark outside, the sun hadn't even begun to rise yet.

Regardless, he pulled up the camera feed. After Mello left with Halle for the SPK building, Matt had installed a few cameras, just in case. Unluckily, the riots had started soon after Mello's business with Near, so they were of little use.

However, it now begged the question of where Near would go next.

Yawning, Matt reviewed the feed, seeing if Halle had spoken to anyone or if Rester or Gevanni had come to her apartment to help her. A minute later, Mello finally sat up, looking like death itself, and swaying slightly. He settled a hand on Matt's shoulder and the red head moved one of his own up to hold it.

"What happened?" Mello asked, gesturing to the screen.

"I put monitors in Halle's apartment, they're leaving," Matt yawned again.

"Right, can't stay in New York, might come here, West Coast, Near's gotta know about the Task Force, still might be here after the raid."

Matt had noticed that Mello talked in choppy, nearly incoherent, sentences when he woke up. He found it adorable, but he'd never tell Mello that. Matt could think it to himself all he wanted though.

Mello stood up, taking a moment to regain his balance, and made his way to the kitchen where he bustled around before starting on coffee. Closing his computer, Matt rubbed his face in an attempt to wake up and got up to join Mello. Stepping behind him, Matt wrapped his arms around Mello's waist and settled his head on his shoulder.

"Hmm?" Mello mumbled.

"I dunno."

"That's helpful."

Once their coffee was made, Matt decided that a doughnut and grocery run would do some good. He told Mello where he was going, gave him a kiss, and grabbed his keys.

He'd much rather have Mello come with him, but he knew that with the scar, it wasn't best to go flaunting his face this close to the Task Force and Mafia men who thought he was dead. It was different on the road trip, no one knew anything that far out so they wouldn't know who Mello was. That was probably why he was okay with it.

Matt picked up a dozen doughnuts as well as some essentials, chocolate and cigarettes among them. The cashier gave him an odd look when he set his purchases on the counter but kept his thoughts to himself, wisely deciding to say nothing about Matt's goggles. He hadn't realized he was still wearing them until then.

When he returned to his apartment, he found Mello sprawled on the floor, eyes open and gazing at the ceiling fan. Matt wasn't sure, but it looked like he was trying to follow one of the fan blades.

"Mells?" he asked carefully, setting the groceries on the table.

"Beyond used to lay down on the floor sometimes, to solve cases, he claimed he was a corpse."

"Um, okay?" that was certainly not what he had expected to come out of Mello's mouth. "And you're doing it because, why now?"

"Trying something new," he muttered.

"Right."

Matt opened up the box of doughnuts and picked one out for Mello. He sat next to him on the floor, holding the doughnut above his face. Mello's eyes flicked over to him for a fraction of a second before returning to the ceiling fan.

"Mells, eat the damn doughnut, I doubt laying on the ground is gonna' help anything."

Mello rolled his eyes and sat up, leaning forward to take a bite of the doughnut before actually taking it from Matt.

"So, what now?" Matt asked, ignoring the dirty he look he got for talking with his mouth full.

"I need more information on the Task Force, whatever you can find, especially on Yagami. Anyone besides his family that he's particularly close to, girlfriend maybe, anything like that. It's possible that if he's got a girlfriend, or a boyfriend I guess, they could be the second Kira. If you find someone like that, get all you can on them. L wiped all the data he collected from when he was working on the case before he died, or rather, Wammy did that so I doubt you'll find anything like that unless the Task Force typed up new files. Find out where they're stationed here, and when they leave."

"Roger that captain."

Matt pulled one of his computers into his lap and Mello finished his doughnut before disappearing to the shower.

Finding information on the Task Force was more difficult than getting into Near's system, so he switched tactics. He got their flight detail by tracking passports that arrived in L.A. around the time that Mello blew up the warehouse. From then on, it was cake work.

Soichiro Yagami was brought to a small hospital nearby, where he died. Matt got a picture of the license plate of the car that brought him there, and then tracked it to a hotel. Facial recognition took some time but when that was done, he cross checked it with members of the Japanese police units that quit during the time L was working the case. Getting names after that was relatively easy, and all had family except for some rookie cop called Matsuda.

He made another pot of coffee before moving on to Light.

As he began, Mello returned from the shower, still damp, and sat down next to him. Together, they read over the perfectly perfect golden child's file, scouring news articles and the like.

When night fell, Matt made his way to the hotel that the Task Force was staying in. Wigs and makeup rendered him another person entirely and he easily got into a room with a computer. No one was currently there, and Matt was out in a matter of minutes, shimmying his way into the vents because he could have sworn he heard voices in the hallway.

Crawling through the metal tunnels, Matt found that he really didn't like tight places. He held the flashdrive between his teeth and was trying desperately not to drool all over it, or break it. Mello might have an aneurysm if he did so. Luckily, Matt managed to get out of the hotel with no trouble.

Mello was out when he got back and Matt didn't know whether to worry more about his absence or the fact that Mello hadn't bothered to hide the fact that he'd taken his gun with him.

Sighing, Matt printed out the documents and saved them to his laptop in case he needed to print out more copies, should Mello mark up the others. With his job done, Matt settled on the couch, trying not to worry.

Mello returned around eleven that night, smelling of alcohol and smoke but obviously not drunk.

"Business?" Matt asked.

"Did you get them?" Mello set his gun on the table and began unlacing his boots.

"Uh, yeah, they reconstructed some of the old files, they aren't all that detailed but they've still got some useful information. Light and his side chick were held under surveillance, apparently Light volunteered himself while Amane was apprehended under false chargers in order to get her to their headquarters."

"How long were they held?"

"Fifty days," Matt said after a few seconds of thought.

"Damn."

An hour of compiling information later and Mello had the basics of a plan set up. He wanted the Amane girl watched, if L went so far as to look her up because he thought she was the second Kira, then it was a definite possibility that she was. However, he remembered Sidoh telling him that it was possible for the Shinigami, if the holder said so, to wipe their memories of the Death Note. That, along with the false thirteen day rule, could have easily proven Light and Amane's innocence. Which was all the more reason for them to be the top suspects.

With a few well placed phone calls, Mello had shipments on their way to Matt's door and the means for false passports.

He turned to Matt to tell him but the other boy was asleep. He was on the floor, head lolled back onto the couch, his computer in front of him and his goggles around his neck. Mello felt a smile twitch at the corner of his lips but he quickly got rid of it. Regardless, he took Matt's hand in his and kept working, attentively listening to the soft breathing beside him.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another chapter?
> 
> I'd forgotten just how much I hate this chapter. It's just unnecessarily complicated and I hate myself for making it that way. Anyways, this chapter has flashbacks, it should be easy to tell which parts are which, because I don't like italicizing flashbacks. But it shouldn't be too hard to follow.
> 
> Also, I'm not trying to be mean to Misa, I think she's pretty great, but I'm not writing through my perspective. I think Matt has a little bit of a mean streak, just an itty bitty one.
> 
> Warning: Excessive Profanity and Mentions of Bulimia

Matt watched his new roommate from behind a bookshelf. The blond kept to himself for the most part. He'd only been at Wammy's for a week and Matt was still testing the waters with him. The kid's name was Mello, which Matt found ironic, given that his personality was anything but. Mello was a pretty angry kid, overall anyways. He practically emitted little waves of fury. Matt thought it was kind of adorable because Mello was more like a cat that thought itself a raging dragon.

Mello was reading, having taken up a comfortable looking position on the cushioned window seat. Matt didn't know what he was reading though because it definitely wasn't English. There were actually a lot of books in the library that were in other languages. Wammy went all over to bring kids who fit the requirements. Only about half of them were native English speakers, everyone else had learned it before arriving, or picked it up insanely fast. Mello spoke with a rapidly fading Russian accent so Matt figure that that was what the book was written in.

He'd spent the last day and a half tailing the kid. Sure, they shared a room, but he only saw Mello in classes or at lights out because they avoided each other like the plague, and he had no idea what the newbie did in his free time.

He read, apparently.

Mello looked up and Matt dropped to the floor. His hair was kind of a dead give away on stealth missions. After a minute or so of silence, he got back up and looked through the shelves to see that Mello had gotten back to his book. He seemed rather invested in it.

It was two hours of silent watching later that Matt decided his roommate didn't do anything interesting. He contented himself with leaving and finding a good place to play on one of his handhelds.

* * *

Watching Misa was boring. She flounced about and flirted and her lack of interesting activity made Matt want to claw his eyes out. She didn't _do_ anything, she practically bounced around in a room and seemed content with no intellectual stimulation whatsoever.

And Mello that she was the second Kira, damn him.

Speaking of Mello, he'd been out for over four hours and hadn't returned. He didn't answer his phone when Matt called him either. There were a few places he would go willingly, taking his scar into consideration, but his fuse was shorter when it came to people ogling his burned features. Matt didn't like worrying because he knew that Mello could take care of himself. But he couldn't help it.

Matt pulled off his goggles to rub his eyes. He picked up the laptop and carried it with him to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

When Matt had lived alone, the apartment had been pretty messy, the kitchen in particular sometimes resembled a fifth grader's science fair project on bacterial growth. After Mello's burns healed up okay, he started cleaning whenever he thought Matt wasn't looking, or awake for that matter. But he'd been watching Mello, in a non stalker-ish way, since their Wammy's days. So he knew how to be inconspicuous, and he knew whenever Mello was bothered by or hiding something. After a few days, he figured that Mello's cleaning was tied to stress. The more stressed he was on any given day, the cleaner the apartment looked.

Matt woke up one night to get water, only to find Mello in the kitchen, scrubbing the counters like his life depended on it. The smell of bleach was heavy in the air and Mello was going over everything with a black light. Where he got a black light in the first place was something that Matt didn't bother finding out. Regardless, he'd gone to bed without alerting Mello to his presence.

He didn't think that the other would appreciate him pointing out the replacement compulsion for perfection.

Matt made his coffee without taking his eyes off the screen and returned to the couch.

"Christ, woman, do you even do anything?" he groaned, chugging down half of his coffee. It turned out to not be a good idea as he choked. He nearly spilled the rest of his drink but was more concerned with the fact that he'd gotten coffee all over his screen.

"Aw, no," he mumbled, shaking his sleeve over his hand to wipe it away, "Good job Matt, spit fucking coffee on the damn laptop screen, real smart number three."

Matt set his mug on the floor and hunkered down to to continue watching Amane.

Mello returned a little after midnight, emitting something that Matt could only describe as drowned puppy and subdued rage.

"Mells?" he put down the laptop, seeing as Amane was sleeping, he didn't see any point in continuing to watch. He stood and carefully approached his...Mello.

"We're gonna fuckin' die, Matt," Mello drawled. His accent had slipped in, nearly as thick as it was when Matt first met him.

"Are you drunk?" Matt leaned in a bit closer, and sure enough, Mello smelled like he'd drank his weight in alcohol.

"Who gives a damn? Our clocks are counting down, Matty, Kira's gonna get us one way or another. Knowing me, we are gonna die at the hand- the notebook of a megalomaniac serial killer with the worst case of god complex I've ever seen in my miserable life-"

Mello was abruptly cut short by Matt's hand smacking him across his unburned cheek.

"Shut up, and shut up now. First of all, we are not gonna die, at least not yet. Got that? Second, your life is not miserable. Now, you look like you're gonna puke. You're gonna go puke and then, if you've got enough of that damn alcohol our your system, we are gonna sit down and talk. Because that's what we do, Mello, we talk, whether you like it or not. We are gonna talk and get you fixed up, okay? Let's just start with that."

Matt didn't give him a chance to respond and dragged him to the bathroom. He held Mello's hair as he wretched into the toilet and used his free hand to rub his back. Seeing Mello vomit, regardless of the fact that it was alcohol induced, was sending Matt spiraling. He remembered what it felt like when he first suspected what Mello was doing, the first time he saw Mello in that bathroom, the hospital visit, Mello's first relapse. He was already beginning to feel dizzy, he couldn't imagine what it was doing to Mello.

Matt hadn't thought about all that until then. He didn't like to think about it.

Eventually, Mello's stomach was empty and he was shaky but managed to stand up okay. His breath smelled of stomach acid and Matt nearly cried as he got him into he shower. Mello didn't complain about the cold water but insisted that he could do it alone. Matt adamantly refused and sat on the counter, content to wait. When Mello got out, Matt had pajamas and a toothbrush ready for him. He let Mello do that on his own and sat down on his bed.

* * *

"What about Linda?" Matt asked.

They were on his bed, Mello cross legged while Matt was more sprawled out. There was a bowl of M&M's between them and Mello was idly separating the colors.

"She's annoying, always insists on saying 'good morning' or 'good afternoon' whenever she sees me. I don't know how anyone can be so perky all the time. She's smart though, I'll give her that, especially when it comes to probability," Mello answered easily, picking a blue and a green candy from the bowl.

It had taken three weeks for Matt and Mello to finally start talking to each other. Both had been apprehensive about the impending friendship though. Matt thought there was something off about Mello, and he was new. While Mello thought that Matt was an anomaly and he'd not had many chances to be social with kids his own age.

"I like Linda, she's pretty cool, she drew me this picture, about a month ago I think. It was Charmander, she made him look really cool!"

"What's a Charmander?" Mello asked.

"You've never head of Pokemon?" the disbelief on Matt's face almost made Mello uncomfortable, like he was missing something incredibly important.

"My family wasn't big on video games, I assume it's a video game?" he was clearly confused, mostly because Matt's expression had shifted into one of pure joy. Just another reason to believe that he was strange.

"Well, yeah, but it's a cartoon show to. It's about- Well, you're a trainer and you basically find all these creatures, they're called Pokemon and there are lots of different types."

Matt continued to explain anything and everything in extreme detail. Mello was actually paying attention, occasionally asking a few clarifying questions but otherwise let Matt do all the talking. He continued to eat only the blue and green candies and stopped when there were no more left. Matt was in the middle of explaining his thoughts on Water vs. Potions when he noticed that Mello was starting to look drowsy.

"Oh, uh, we should probably get to bed, huh?"

Mello nodded and yawned, slipping off Matt's bed towards his own. He burrowed under the covers and was asleep in seconds. Matt chuckled softly and stood up, careful not to disturb Mello as he moved a little closer. He patted his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before climbing into his own bed.

"We'll be good friends, I think."

* * *

Matt sat in front of him, cross legged, and waited until Mello got himself situated in a similar position.

"So, you went out and what? Did you just go to a bar and toss back liquor? How'd you get back? Did anything happen on the way back? Did you bring your gun? Oh god, tell me you didn't shoot anyone! What the hell were you thinking?" Matt asked quickly, hoping to maybe get Mello off his guard just a little.

"I didn't shoot anybody, you can even check, all the bullets are still there," Mello mumbled.

"And you went out and got drunk why exactly?" While he was indeed worried about him, Matt was kind of miffed that Mello went out and got drunk, leaving him to watch a less interesting blond who only acted like she was drunk. That aside, he was worried that the drinking may have triggered a relapse, maybe not full blown, but a relapse all the same.

"Matt?" Mello started, finally looking up.

It took Matt a moment to realize that Mello's eyes were red and puffy. It was fading a little, most likely because of the shower, but all the same, Mello had been crying.

"Yeah?"

"Kira's gonna try and kill me. I'll make myself known eventually, it's what everything narrows down to. We've already gone over all this and the only way this could possibly end is with my death. Near's got something up his stupid white sleeves, I just know it but he won't be able to play it without me doing something. And Kira's got the damn Task Force under his thumb. The U.S. isn't opposing him, so pretty much, no one is. The bastard already has my name, the older Yagami said it over their little radio when they raided the warehouse. If he gets my face, I'm doomed. By extension, you will be to."

Matt moved back so he was sitting against the headboard but pulled Mello into his lap.

"You're right, we've gone over all this, but I stand by what I said."

"You're an idiot."

"True. You dodged my question though," he felt Mello's breath on his chest as he laughed, it made him worry.

"I got drunk because I could, Matt. And because I needed it."

"So, you-"

"I got low, Matt, okay? I got fucking low and I puked, okay?" Mello's eyes blazed with fury, but there was also shame and Matt felt his heart clench, "After that, I found the nearest bar and I drank the place dry."

* * *

"What's it like?"

The two boys sat up on the roof, as was the habit they'd made over the past couple of months. It had been a low day for Mello, he'd been pretty much dead to the world, lethargic and uninterested. He didn't even notice Near when Matt dragged him down to breakfast and made him eat a banana and a piece of toast.

"Hmm?" Mello asked, distracted. His hands were on his stomach, pressing down on it with unnecessary force. Matt wanted to grab those hands, move them away and just hold them, but he refrained because he didn't think Mello would react well.

"What does this feel like for you? Being low?" It was an odd question for sure. One wasn't supposed to just waltz up to someone and ask them what their particular brand of depression felt like. But Matt did so anyways because he didn't know what else he was supposed to do.

Mello sat up and tucked his knees to his chin, keeping his hands pressed tight to his abdomen.

"It's like you're drowning. Sinking slowly and you just kind of look up and everyone else around you is breathing fine. They don't notice that you're there and you know that you're going to drown. You know because you've been fighting it for too long, and now you're tired, so you give up. That's what it's like. It's giving up. It's accepting the fact that I'm broken, and I'm done."

Matt acted on impulse and punched Mello in the shoulder before cupping his cheeks and leaning in so their foreheads touched.

* * *

"No, Mello, damn it," Matt jumped off the bed and kicked whatever was near his foot. He wasn't angry at Mello, he wasn't, he could never be. But he was, he was angry and he hated it because he wasn't supposed to be.

"I-" Mello was starting to get mad himself but he felt his voice die in his throat when Matt looked at him.

"We worked through this, Mells. We did this so many times and I-" Matt cut himself off in a poor attempt to steady his voice, "I get it, okay? And don't tell me I don't because when you left I hit that downward spiral so don't tell me that I don't get it. Because I do, maybe not exactly like you, but all the same. If you were feeling low, you could have called me, damn it, you know that I would have come to get you. And even with all of this Kira shit going on, you didn't have to get pissed off your ass to cope."

Matt was furious, an otherworldly rage had erupted and he couldn't control it. It wasn't directed at Mello, no, never, but more so at the actions that Mello had taken. Matt loved Mello, he was important and he loved him and the damn fool had just gone off the edge and hadn't called Matt to help him.

"You should have called me," he repeated, "I would have come, I would have brought you back and I would've talked. We always talk, Mells. That's how we've always fixed things. I know that maybe you won't entirely get rid of that god awful demon you've got floating around in your head, and maybe you'll never truly get past all this, but I can _help_ you Mells. I always have, and I like helping you, because you're at least a little bit happy when we deal with this."

Mello's eyes were fixed on him, noting each word that came from his mouth, interpreting every sentence and meshing out Matt's anger until he realized just what exactly he was upset about.

* * *

"You're not broken, understand me?" Matt asked. Mello's skin beneath his hands was warm, but his cheeks were hollow and Matt didn't like that.

"I am-"

"No, you're not. You're my best friend. We'll get you through this, we're a team right? The best team. You aren't broken, maybe a little scuffed up, but everyone here is, you'll be fine."

Mello blinked slowly and cast his eyes down.

"You know I don't believe a word coming out of your mouth, right?" he asked, an icy grin tugging at his lips. Matt's eyes softened and he let go of Mello's face.

"You will eventually, I'm persistent."

"Keep thinking that," Mello muttered, punching Matt in the arm.

"Ow!"

"We're even now, and I didn't even hit you that hard, don't be a wimp."

* * *

Mello stood up and sighed.

"Yeah, okay then, let's talk some more," he took carefully measured steps until he stood before Matt and settled his arms on his shoulders. Almost immediately, Matt had his hands on Mello's waist and they were slowly swaying in the middle of the room for a few minutes.

When they let go of each other, Matt walked Mello the kitchen where he made him drink some milk and pulled a package of crackers from the cupboard. Mello warily eyed the crackers before quickly shoving one in his mouth, as if he'd change his mind. They settled on the couch and Matt was pleased to find that Amane was still asleep.

Mello finished his food before turning to Matt. He explained in short sentences that he'd originally gone out to collect some papers from a plant he had who'd traveled from D.C. to Tokyo on business. When the plant told him of all the T.V. shows vying for Kira's affection, Mello hadn't taken the news well. He'd gone to a small coffee joint to mull over ideas and watch a few Kira debates. He'd worked a few new theories and time lines, he'd also gotten a short call from Halle. She'd told him that the SPK was settled after the riot and that was all.

Mello had every intent to return to the apartment before it got too dark. Some support beam in his head had snapped though and he ended up vomiting in the bathroom of the coffee shop. He'd had a small attack in the stall and completely lost it. That was when he headed to the bar.

Matt didn't say anything and only discreetly thumbed away the three tears that slipped from Mello's eyes.

"Hey, Matty?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not leaving," he muttered quietly.

"I'd never," Matt leaned close enough to give Mello a kiss. There was a faint returned pressure before Matt felt pain blossom in the side of his face. It took him a moment to comprehend the fact that Mello had just smacked him.

"What the hell!" he looked completely taken aback, not angry though.

"We're even now, and I didn't even hit you that hard, don't be a wimp," Mello crossed his arms over his chest and turned his face away so Matt wouldn't see the small smile he was sporting.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I forgot just how much musing I put in this chapter. Huh. Should be fun. I also may or may not love the image of Mello sitting in Matt's lap a lot more than I should. I really don't mean to put it in the story as much as I do.
> 
> Two more chapters! 28 is actually gonna be up in just a second, and you're gonna hate me, but oh well. Also, thanks to those reviewing! Feedback is much appreciated especially as we are almost to the end, I hope you're still enjoying it!

Matt slept for most of the plane ride, his head lolled on Mello's shoulder. There was point in disguising themselves or sitting apart. Matt had never been seen by anyone related to the Kira investigation and Near wouldn't interfere. So, Mello let Matt use him as a pillow and made sure to keep his scarred side to the window, where the flight attendant and the other passengers wouldn't see it.

When they touched down, Mello shook Matt awake, none too gently. He gave a drowsy grin before grabbing their bags from the overhead. They made it through customs and the baggage claim without a fuss, Matt had falsified papers for the weapons and his equipment and they were approved without trouble. One of the security guards gave Mello a suspicious look, more for his scar than his rather attention grabbing outfit.

Mello was tempted to growl at the man.

Matt had booked a room at a small hotel that was more or less off the radar ahead of time so they walked through the busy streets. Matt's prized car was being shipped over and would arrive at a compound later that night so driving was out of the question.

Jet lagged, and ever so slightly pissed off, Mello spoke rushed Japanese to the woman behind the counter and she handed him the room key. They trudged up the steps and Mello unlocked the door. They barely made it on the bed before collapsing. Mello curled into Matt's chest, debating on whether pulling the blanket up to his shoulders was worth it or not.

It wasn't necessary because Matt did it for him.

Mello was in that half hazed place between sleep and consciousness when he realized that everything was beginning to turn into a now or never situation. It was coming down to the wire. They were in Kira's back yard, his god damned playground. Kira already had his name. All it would take was a simple mistake for one of Kira's worms to see his face. And if Mello's face was revealed, that would be the end of it. Having his name and face meant the end of Matt, and by extension, the end of Near. All it would take was a few sentences, something like 'Mello kills any remaining SPK members and accomplices'.

Kira had to know that Near had been in contact with him before. Or Near mentioned him, that would explain some of what resulted after the trade with Yagami Sr. for Sayu. After L's death, the Task Force would have to be even stupider than Mello thought to not dig up the detective's past. In doing so, they would have found out about Mello and Near, which would lead to them figuring out their affiliation.

If Kira got Mello's face, everything would be over.

He was the only one who could end it. It came down to him. Near could dance around and play footsie with Kira all he wanted but he would never get any closer to getting substantial evidence. Kira was smart. On par with L for how long he'd kept up his charade, for how far he'd carried his plot. Mello, and even Near, would not be able to take him down alone. And Mello knew that it was not in Near's playbook to be the one to make the sacrifice. Sure, Near would allow others to die, but when that happened, there was no guarantee of the preferred outcome.

Near was analytical, he was detached. Whatever happened in the investigation would not affect him. Near was an immortal in his own head, untouchable. He was a lot like Kira in that respect. It came down to Mello, and Mello alone.

With that thought, he fell asleep, barely noticing when Matt put an arm around him and tugged him closer.

* * *

Matt could only sleep for a few hours, sleeping on the plane, as well as the time change, had messed him up and he wasn't one of those people who could alter their internal clock with a snap.

Mello was beside him, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he was dead. The only thing that gave him away was the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

Not quite ready to leave his side, Matt stayed and bushed his fingers through Mello's hair. After their initial talk, Mello had seemed a little better, a bit more stable and not looking like he'd burst into tears or convulsions at any moment. They'd fallen asleep on the couch for a few hours before beginning to pack up the apartment. Matt made arrangements for a hotel and left Mello to himself so he could get his car squared away for shipping. He withdrew what money they'd need, and then some. When he'd returned, Mello had been going through his dresser, but looking as though he had no idea what it was that he was trying to find. Matt didn't say anything when he saw Mello slip a folded piece of paper into his bag.

Once everything was taken care of, they waited around in the empty apartment for the flight time. Matt got takeout from an Indian street food shop around the corner and they ate in companionable silence. Mello had dozed off, leaning against Matt's shoulder and breathing easily, appearing unbothered. But Matt's phone alarm went off an hour later and they picked up their duffel bags, catching a cab to LAX

Looking down to the young man in his arms, Matt leaned forward enough to kiss his nose before settling back. He knew that Mello's brain had been whirring a mile a minute. He could run like a computer if he wanted to, spitting out strategy after strategy until all of their options were exhausted. Currently, there were enough variables to drown in and, when working with the supernatural, it was impossible to pin down any one idea that could be illogical.

He still had a hard time believing any of it. Shinigami and killer notebooks? That was the stuff of fiction. When they were back at Wammy's, Matt imagined helping Mello catch murderers, thieves, embezzlers, human things. Human things with human minds and human emotions. Things that could be explained by opening a book or doing blood work or conducting a brain scan. Certainly, there was a human element to Kira. Light Yagami. Light Yagami could be put down to textbook. He was explainable, all the behavioral clues and unbalanced brain chemistry. But how to prove that the most loved teenager in Japan was using a notebook that could dole out heart attacks like candy, with the aide of an otherworldly being that called itself a god of death? How to explain the Shinigami eye deal? Or the rules of the notebook?

Matt sighed and the noise apparently woke Mello from the land of the dead.

"I'll make coffee," Matt said softly, preparing to get up.

Mello opened his eyes, the action seemed to take a lot more energy than it should. He nodded, and Matt rolled off the bed while he proceeded to force himself upright. Matt kept an eye on him while he made coffee, watching in growing concern as each move Mello made seemed to make him more and more exhausted.

"Mells, you all right?" he asked, handing him a styrofoam cup. Mello stared at the drink, apprehension in his eyes, before nodding slowly and accepting it.

"Just thinking," he said dismissively, downing the contents. If he was affected by the temperature, he didn't show it.

Wordlessly, Mello made his way to the shower, leaving Matt in confused quiet.

Matt decided to unpack what they'd brought. Hopefully, seeing productivity might help Mello. When all his equipment was up and running, and all of Mello's data was organized on the small table, Matt made a few phone calls regarding his car.

* * *

Mello was just stepping out the shower when a knock on the door alerted him to Matt's presence.

"I'm going to go pick up my car, I'll be back in an hour or two, maybe a little more. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Matt, just go get your precious car."

He thought he heard a chuckle and he waited until he heard the door close to breathe again.

Alone in the bathroom, Mello stood in front of the mirror and stared.

There were a plethora of plans swimming in his head. The majority of them had unfavorable outcomes and he always ended up returning to one single thought. It had the greatest chance of working, it included the least amount of confrontation but still relied on a number of variables that were subject to a very unsavory domino effect if they changed even the slightest bit. His number one priority was making sure Matt was safe. The plan could be allowed to fail if Matt got away. That way, hopefully, Matt would be smart enough to go to Near and help him. If Mello died, then he died. There was nothing more to it. He wasn't supposed to have made it as far as he had. He wasn't supposed to have left Wammy's, or even made it out of Russia to begin with. He'd cheated his dice too many times to count, and it was going to catch up with him. It almost did when he blew up the warehouse.

Then Matt had showed up. No matter what, Matt had to make it out alive, that was it.

The two key characters in his plot were Halle and Kira's unbearable spokeswoman, Kiyomi Takada. It made sense that Takada would have had to have been personally contacted by Kira to accept her spokesperson status. And, in order to make sure she didn't do anything to affect his overall plan, Kira would have had to speak with her somehow. They would have met in person. After a bit of digging Matt had found out that Takada had attended the same college as Kira and the two had dated for a short time before Misa Amane, Kira number two, came into the picture.

With Takada as his hostage, he could use her to his advantage, get information on Kira or kill her. There was a secluded area outside the city, an abandoned church, where he planned to keep her. Without a spokeswoman, Kira would have to act. The Task Force would have to do something and Near could step in. Halle was one of Takada's guards and given the fact that she had some sort infatuation with Mello, he could use her.

Mello scrubbed at his face with a towel and pulled on some pants. Staring at his reflection, Mello turned to the side, gaze travelling from his ribs to hips. He pressed his hands to his abdomen, putting as much pressure as he could before it started to hurt. There was still a voice that whispered at him, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother and sometimes like Mika. It sounded like a siren call and it was damn persuasive. He tore his hands away and buried his fingers in his hair, yanking angrily and waiting for Matt's voice to smother the other.

And it did, it came and told him he was beautiful. It told him that he was important, and that he didn't need to do it. Matt's voice told him that he was strong and that he could win. It told him that he was loved.

Mello pulled on a shirt and exited the bathroom, trying to mentally prepare himself for the upcoming work. He had to sort through papers, memorized the streets of the city, track Takada's schedule, measure police response time, and get more research done on little Miss To-Oh. With files in hand, Mello cleared a space on the floor and sat down, spreading the papers until they all lay in front of him. He wrote down anything useful on a notepad, and highlighted passages too long to write. He worked until Matt returned with the keys to his car, and breakfast, the smell of which made Mello's stomach churn uncomfortably. Subconsciously, he rubbed a bruising circle against his stomach.

Matt set the food on the small table and doled it out into two bowls. Grabbing a laptop and notepad, he sat down, sitting just opposite of Mello. He held out one of the bowls, waiting with a small smile on his face until Mello caved and accepted it.

"The dude who unloaded my car recommended this place, and I'm not entirely sure what it is, but it smells good."

Mello took a moment to actually look at the bowl and shrugged. He couldn't identify it either. His stomach chose that moment to grumble at him and Matt started laughing. Mello glared at him but began eating.

"It's all right," he mumbled around a mouthful.

Matt arched a brow at him, ready to say something. Mello knew what it was and he quickly swallowed his food, throwing a nearby by pen at Matt's head.

"I need you to find out more about Kiyomi Takada. Her work schedule, calendar, family, everything," Mello said, shoving a few papers toward Matt and rearranging the rest.

They worked in companionable silence, piano pieces played quietly from one of the laptops to fill any empty space they left. At some point, Matt had weaseled his way behind Mello and they ended up seated back to back. Matt would occasionally shift around so he could lean his head back to rest on the juncture of Mello's neck and shoulder. He didn't say anything about it, so Matt continued to do so.

Matt hadn't noticed that they'd skipped lunch until it was six o' clock and he found himself getting restless. Mello apparently noticed and gently elbowed him in the side, so Matt left to get food.

By the time he returned, Mello had tidied up their work space and had taken up pacing. He held a piece of paper in his hands, a pen cap between his teeth. His hair was mused in the way it got when he constantly ran his hand through it.

"Everything okay?" Matt asked, setting down the food.

"Sit," Mello's eyes were riveted on the paper and he gestured to the bed.

It looked as if he'd crush the pen cap between his molars.

"What's wrong?"

"Read this."

Mello continued his worried paces as Matt read over the symbols and scribbles. There was a small map scrawled along the bottom, and the margins were full of notes, some nearly undecipherable. After a few minutes, Matt managed to work out everything on the page and he bit his lip as he thought further. It was nearly the final draft of Mello's plan. It was undoubtedly the thing that he'd been worrying over all day.

"Mells, are you sure?"

"It's all I can think of. I still need to record police response times and that's not going to be easy, given that the majority of them are Kira supports. I'm debating on calling Halle, she'll be a necessary asset whether I like it or not. Kira needs a spokesperson and as soon as I get her out of the equation, the faster this all crumbles."

The pen cap snapped and Mello winced, spitting out the broken pieces into the trash bin. Matt noted the fact that Mello's hand wasn't just running through his hair, he was burrowing his fingers in and yanking on the golden strands. His other hand was clutched around his rosary, a bead with an engraved 'M' between his thumb and index finger.

"It's subject to change," he mumbled. Matt barely heard him though because Mello abandoned his hair pulling and bead twisting in favor of collapsing onto the bed and cradling his head in his hands.

Matt moved to get closer, pulling Mello into his side.

"It'll work out fine, you know that right?"

The words were foreign in his mouth, thick and choking as he forced them past his lips. It would work, maybe it wouldn't. They both knew it. They both knew that there was nothing to be gained by denying the fact.

Matt knew. He knew that what Mello was pitching was a suicide mission dressed up as a last ditch effort. He knew that Mello didn't plan to come back from his ride with Takada. Mello may have thought he would live when he started outlining his plan. But the further along he went, the clearer the outcome became.

And it killed him to know that Mello was okay with that.

Mello turned in to face him and rested his head on Matt's chest.

"I'm sorry I brought you into this."

"I came along."

Mello scoffed and Matt shifted to pull him onto his lap.

"I'm serious. I could have left you to die at the warehouse. I could have kicked you out. I could have stayed and let you go to New York alone, or stayed when you decided to come here. I'm with you by choice, Mells."

Even those words felt hollow. They were true but carried no weight. Matt meant what he said, he was with Mello of his own accord and he'd stay unless he was forcibly removed. But how could he possibly convey that more than he already had?

Mello stood and picked up the discarded paper, setting it atop a stack of files that sat on a rapidly overheating laptop. He brought the food Matt had set on the table back to the bed.

They ate in silence, seated so they faced the other. Their legs were just the right combination of folded and extended so that their feet or knees touched whenever one of them shifted.

"Remember that one Christmas that Linda colored the snow on the front yard," Mello piped up.

"Uh, yeah," thrown by the sudden conversation starter, Matt scrambled for the memory, "She painted it somehow, water color or something, I dunno."

"She drew flowers and then had us all look out the second story window to see it."

"Right, Bethany accidentally knocked snow off the roof and ruined it. Linda painted a monster on her wall when she was asleep to freak her out. I think she felt guilty and painted over it later though," a small chuckle broke past Matt's lips and he looked up to see a soft smile on Mello's.

Passing the night with stories was a lot easier than spending it talking about death and strategies and killer notebooks.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I'm gonna pitch an idea, Mello wearing one of Matt's shirts after he's taken a shower. Think on that. Also, I don't know how I haven't noticed it but a lot of this story takes place in bathrooms, just so you know that wasn't intentional, I have no idea. Also, the next chapter is gonna be the epilogue and then we're done!
> 
> That said, I'm a horrible person.

The world, which had been blurry since they left the hotel room, was starting to clear up. He remembered Halle playing her part, telling Takada to go with him. He remembered saying something to her, or maybe she'd said something to him? Whatever it was, he couldn't quite remember. But it had worked because Takada was now on the bike with him, and his mind was on autopilot, only putting forth the focus necessary to keep him from crashing. But also trying to keep him going fast enough to prevent capture.

The only thing Mello could hear was his own heartbeat. The cars that he sped past were practically nonexistent. He couldn't feel Takada's arms around his waist, or her worried breath at his neck. No, Mello was oblivious. His only saw the few feet in front of him as he sped along the packed streets.

It was all a bad idea. It was so very horrible and Mello hated that his bad idea was the only one that could possibly work.

He regretted leaving Wammy's, leaving Matt. Regretted blowing up the warehouse, being found by Matt. He regretting pulling his love into the mess that was the Kira case. Mello regretted all of it. Mostly, he just regretted Matt. Regretted developing feelings for him. If he hadn't, neither of them would be in their current situation.

Matt would only just be leaving Wammy's, he'd probably find a small apartment and work at some tech place. Or maybe, Matt would be how he was when he found Mello, working jobs for higher ups and with too much money and his car. Either or would be better than what Mello had shoved him head first into.

Mello would more than likely have been sent to a psyche ward for his problems. He never would have loved Matt and he'd have no conflict or guilt about him. It would be so much easier to not care about him. Not caring was easier. Not caring was sleeping without worry. Not caring was shooting someone and not having to think about whether or not somebody would feel differently for him. It was definitely not crying when he was alone, then getting rid of red eyes before Matt got back. It wasn't having someone necessary for survival. Indeed, not caring would certainly be easier.

But he did care. And he found himself racing amongst cars, trying his damndest not to get captured or shot while Kira's accomplice was handcuffed to him. He did care, and Matt was diverting attention by leading Takada's guard force away from Mello. He cared, and the chance that both of them would die was higher than it had ever been before.

* * *

Waking up was a mistake

Mello woke first. He kissed Matt's forehead before getting out of bed and stumbling into the bathroom. He didn't bother trying to make the water warm, he was numb so it wouldn't make a difference. With his mind on autopilot, Mello washed his hair and scrubbed his skin until it was raw. His hands shook as he turned off the water but stopped by the time he managed to towel off and pull on a pair of boxers. He sat on the edge of the tub for a moment, waiting until he was able to move without feeling like he'd keel over. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying only a little.

Matt found him a half hour later, sitting on the edge of counter but angled so one leg dangled off, the other tucked beneath him. His eyes were closed and he wasn't paying attention, so when Matt stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, Mello almost panicked. But he relaxed when Matt pressed a kiss to his throat.

Blue eyes opened slowly and Mello covered one of Matt's hands with his own. Matt helped him off the counter and handed him a shirt, one of his own. He gave him another kiss before Mello stepped out of the bathroom. Quickly, he slipped into Matt's shirt, planning to change out of it later, but he would enjoy it for the moment.

He waited in one of the chairs by the window, tucking his knees to his chest under Matt's shirt, obsessively tracking the seconds until Matt got out. It took ten minutes and thirty seven seconds. Matt was more properly dressed than Mello, wearing jeans and a wife beater. His hair was still wet and he smelled strongly of shampoo. It seemed longer than it should, Mello found that he liked it.

* * *

Matt swore as he turned a corner and his grip on the wheel faltered slightly. The entire car seemed to shake but he soon regained control and sped up. There were a lot more guards than they'd originally estimated, but it wasn't like he could turn back now.

He spared a look in his rear view, glad to see he was putting some distance between himself and his pursuers. Letting that lull him into a sense of security would be a mistake, so Matt floored the gas pedal and swerved to avoid a driver that wasn't paying attention to the high risk car chase going on.

They'd run tests, seeing how fast the police reaction time was. Matt had checked out all of Takada's personal force and the cars they drove. From that, they'd figured that Matt should be pushing one hundred to one hundred fifteen miles an hour when he drove. That meant hyper vigilance. There was no point in leading a chase if his car was going to give out, or he got distracted and crashed.

Which meant no thinking about Mello's well being, or the plan, or whether Mello remembered the directions and didn't get lost. Matt wasn't supposed to think about how apprehensive he was. Wasn't supposed to think about how the mission made it so it was likely that he'd never see Mello again. And certainly, Matt was not to think about how much he wished he could just put an end to Kira and take Mello away so they could go back to his apartment in L.A., where they could live together for the rest of their lives and cause trouble without repercussions.

He turned the corner and was astonished to find a barricade of cars in place. He was already too far down the street to turn onto another, and turning around was suicide at the speed he was going. He couldn't just break through them either, not unless he actually did want to die. No doubt the other street openings were packed tight as well. How had they known where he was going? Was there a chopper in the air that was recording him? Was that how? But how had they beat him there? And why the hell did Takada have so many people at her disposal?

Matt wrenched the wheel and slammed on the breaks, feeling his car shudder and shake and he whispered an apology as it skidded and spun to a stop.

So that was that. Was he to make his final stand? Was there even a chance that they'd just take him in for questioning? Arrest him, rough him up but keep him alive? They'd have to. If they wanted information about Mello, and Takada's whereabouts, they'd definitely bring him in for questioning. And it wasn't like the Japanese police could carry firearms.

His confidence shattered as he saw the amount of guns aimed right at him. That hadn't been in the research. The last time they'd checked, they weren't allowed to have guns on their person. What the hell happened?

Shakily, Matt adjusted his cigarette and opened the door. His chance was to play harmless, to play stupid and reckless. He was two of those already, so the third shouldn't be so hard.

"Hey, come on, give me a break," he called, already raising his hands, "Since when were the Japanese allowed to carry around such big guns?"

He paused a moment, but detected no change.

"You got me, I'm part of this whole kidnapping incident. That means you'll have a lot of questions to ask."

Get them on track, get them to lower their weapons. They'd have to take him alive, Mello said so. Mello said so. He said so, he said so, he said so.

"You won't shoot."

And Matt really thought that they wouldn't.

The worst part was that he was aware of every individual bullet that passed into his body. The ones that riddled his torso, his legs, the one that nicked his temple and sent blood streaming down his face. He was even aware of the ones that hit his car. He was aware of every single one. But he didn't feel them. He felt the force behind them as the shots made him stagger back, eventually sagging against the ruined exterior of his car.

But he didn't feel it.

Matt let out a shaky breath as his cigarette tumbled from his lips, extinguishing itself on his ruined vest.

He felt blood gurgling up his throat as he tried to breathe, a low heat began to burn its way from his toes and up to his head. His mind, while slowly shutting down, channeled memories for him to enjoy and he appreciated the fact.

He saw frigid eyes that hid a world of hurt. He saw a rare smile that lit up the world brighter than any sun. He saw a swish of black as it turned a corner, and thin hands pulling golden hair into a messy bun. He saw the night sky from the roof of Wammy's, and a hand clasped in his. He saw a snow covered boy beneath him on a semi busy sidewalk in a small town.

Matt saw Mello.

* * *

There was another chair that Matt could have easily sat in. Instead, he picked up Mello and sat down, arranging him sideways in his lap once he'd done so. Mello didn't protest, he didn't make a sound and maybe that was cause for worry.

Matt eased back a bit to make Mello more comfortable and began running his hands up down the blond's back. Mello was trying to keep his own hands busy, clenching them into fists or rubbing his knuckles. He looked like he wanted to say something.

"Mells?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"You hardly call me Mello anymore, it's always Mells. Why?"

Well, there was a good question. Matt had never really put much thought into it. Half the time, he wasn't aware that he was indeed calling Mello 'Mells' instead. But now that he did think about it, he could pinpoint a reason.

"I didn't think you'd appreciate your real name, and everyone's always called you Mello. I'm the only one who calls you Mells, so..." he made a dismissive gesture, not quite sure what to say next.

"Oh."

Mello settled against him properly, resting his head on Matt's shoulder and letting out a quiet sigh as he did so. It was a few minutes later that Mello realized Matt's hair was still wet. He got to his feet and retrieved a towel and the brush from the bathroom. He stood behind Matt and carefully dried his hair before brushing it. Matt relaxed almost immediately, allowing Mello control.

Mello had originally suspected Matt of dyeing it but what kind of nine year old dyed their hair? And even if he had, Mello had never seen any dyed dots of skin or products in the trash bin. Besides, the color suited him.

When he finished, Mello finished getting dressed, keeping Matt's shirt on for just a little while longer, then sunk into the opposite arm chair and tipped his head back.

"I'm going to call Halle," he said after a moment.

"Okay," Matt responded slowly, "I'll finish getting dressed."

Mello stepped into the hallway and dialed Halle's number, casting a glance over his shoulder before he closed the door. Matt was only just standing up, his body language read as 'at ease' but his face was somber as a funeral procession.

* * *

Mello's voice didn't waver as Takada stared him down. She wasn't what Mello had entirely expected. But he could see her slowly unraveling, becoming distraught the further he pushed her.

His helmet was still on, his name was still safe. His scars began to burn as he removed it, revealing his face to the woman before him.

"Take off everything you're wearing and put it all in that box," his voice was stern but indifferent.

Mello could see her shock at the request and held back a sigh. She was smart, supposed to be anyways. She should have figured it would happen. He found himself disappointed.

"Hurry up," he cocked the gun aiming it at her chest, "You can use this blanket."

Who'd have thought modesty would be such a big deal for her.

Without a word, Takada turned her back and began to strip off her clothes. Her hands were shaking, making it difficult to under the buttons on her shirt. Mello obliged her when she asked for the blanket. He was thinking too much, his wheels turning too fast, burning up and egging on a headache. He refused to move, and kept the gun fixed on her until she'd covered herself.

He folded the flaps to the box containing Takada's clothes and closed up the back of the truck. In the dark, he changed into the stolen uniform he'd gotten ahold of earlier. The burning sensation he'd felt since the day began was increasing with ever step he took. It wasn't horrible, nothing like the warehouse explosion, but it was verging on inability to ignore.

It was better than the bells at least.

Mello started the truck and began driving. He'd not heard from Matt yet, he hadn't expected to but some part of him made his hand go to his phone ever few seconds. Pushing thoughts of green eyes and orange goggles from his mind, Mello attempted to focus on the ultimate goal. The goal that the plan would accomplish.

It was nothing short of suicide mission, he knew that and didn't even have to dig down all that deep to know it. Mello couldn't do much. He was never going to be L's successor, he was never going to amount to anything. he was never going to be the one to catch Kira. That was never his fate. The dice that had been cast labelled him little more than a knight. Near wasn't even a piece, he was the player. Mello had his many uses but, ultimately, he was expendable.

It was his final move, it would be good for something. It was an anomaly in Kira's plan, it would prove something, it had to. Near could use that something. Besides self sacrifice, there wasn't much else he could do. He knew he was important, but he wasn't valuable.

He'd long since stopped thinking to the contrary.

His train of thought was cut short by the small screen displaying the news.

As soon as he saw the state of Matt's car, he stopped listening. There was no clear picture of Matt, and he felt a small part of himself become relieved as fire consumed his thoughts.

Matt wasn't supposed to die. He was supposed to make it out alive, supposed to get out of Japan and back to his apartment in L.A., and if not that then he was supposed to go to Near. It wasn't right! It wasn't supposed to end like that! Matt was not meant to be lying against the side of his Camaro, dead.

He flexed his grip on the steering wheel.

Refusing to cry, refusing to do anything but get the job done, Mello continued to drive.

It was only a short time later that Mello felt himself seize up. Pain radiated through his body, down his arms, doing an excellent job of leaving no nerve spared in its assault. Mello's slightly lacking medical knowledge produced 'heart attack' for his hazy mind, right after Kira and crime scene photographs danced in his vision.

The truck veered off the road and crashed into an abandoned church.

Had Mello not been dying in that moment, he would have found the irony unbearable. He was to die in a church of all places. The sudden realization that he was dying hit hard, he found he couldn't breathe.

He dragged one hand to his rosary, fighting to bring one of his fingers to the 'M's' that Matt had carved there all those years ago. He slipped another finger through the ring.

It seemed like another life time. One in which he and Matt were happy, despite the bulimia, despite Mello's anger, and the standards they were placed at. It struck a cord then, that he missed being happy. He missed actively seeking comfort from Matt, missed the days where Matt would carelessly throw him a smile. An innocent smile. And they had been, innocent. Matt more so, but they'd been relatively untouched by the world. Untouched by the insanity that over took Kira and claimed Beyond.

The insanity that led to Matt's death, and Mello's soon enough.

Mello felt strangely sleepy as he died, feeling his heart falter in his chest. He was pleased though, he could see Matt.

* * *

"I'm sorry, you know?" Mello whispered. He was hunched over his knees, lacing up his boots. He'd changed out of Matt's shirt, missing the way it felt as soon as he took it off. Matt sat opposite of him, field stripping both of their guns and reassembling them. He'd been doing that for the past hour.

"For what?" Matt set down the partially assembled gun on the table to devote his attention.

Mello didn't answer until he'd laced both his boots tighter than necessary. He tucked on leg up onto the chair so his chin could rest on his knee.

"Everything," Mello knew that he was beginning to shake, but he he tried to keep the tremors out of his one word answer.

Matt was standing in one second, kneeling in front of him in the next. He moved Mello's leg and pulled him down the short distance it took for them to properly meet each other's eyes.

"Don't start that shit Mells, not now, we aren't gonna do that right now," Matt said, wrapping Mello tight in his arms.

"I'm aware we've been over all this Matt, I know," Mello said shortly, turning his face into Matt's neck and press a light kiss to his pulse point, "I know but I can't help but think that if I'd been a bit meaner to you at Wammy's, you wouldn't be here."

"Mells, look me in the eyes, now."

Mello bristled a little at the authority in Matt's tone but he quickly shook the feeling away. It took a moment for him to stop hiding in Matt's neck but he leveled their gazes again, trying to see past orange tinted lenses. It bothered him, so he pulled the goggles off, feeling better when he saw the proper green of his eyes.

"I love you, you got that? I'll say it again. I. Love. You. Now, whether our relationship should be happening or not, that's not entirely pertinent to this scenario, is it?"

"Matt-"

"Is it?"

Mello's response was to lean closer until their foreheads touched. It was Matt who leaned even closer to kiss him, and Mello allowed him to. More importantly, he allowed himself to feel safe with Matt's lips on his.

It would be a handful of hours later that the sun would begin to set. When that happened, two young men, truly they were not yet proper adults, would walk down to a hotel parking lot. In one spot, a red Camaro, lovingly taken care of, and in the space beside it, a newly purchased motorcycle that would later be abandoned without a second thought.

In that parking lot, the two would hug, and they would kiss. The would stare, conveying wordless expressions. They would force themselves to step away, but allow their fingers to linger longer than necessary.

Matt would hide a tear by snapping his goggles on and Mello would hide a shaky sob with his helmet.

And it was obvious that they knew it would be the last they ever saw of each other.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine - Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not so mean that I would purposely attempt to crush your heart and leave it at that, I am mean enough, however, to have had this chapter done on the same night that 28 was published with plans to wait and see how long I could keep hearts broken. Hopefully, this makes up for that. I will reiterate, I was originally a fluff writer, before I got into angst, so this is me reminding everybody of that.
> 
> Anyways, you all are just amazing. Like, I was grinning like a fool when I read through the reviews, it just made my whole day better. So, thank you so much for sticking around through his train wreck. And, without further adieu, the fix it Epilogue!

Being so high up, it was unsurprising that there was a bit of a breeze. Not that he could feel it of course, but he could see the way his hair floated about and the way his loose clothes occasionally rippled. The view from the top of Wammy's House seemed to have gotten better in his absence. That could be attributed to the fact that he could sit higher now, without worrying about falling and sustaining bodily harm.

Everything was tinted, like a colored film was stretched over it. Sure, the sunsets still looked nice, but they weren't beautiful. The clear sky looked pleasing, but not refreshing. Even rain was ruined. A storm had blown through, drowning everything with freezing droplets. There was no sense of freedom standing in the rain when he couldn't feel it.

There were a lot of things missing from his head. He wasn't sure how he knew that the renovated church was now an orphanage called Wammy's House, or how he knew that the view from the roof was amazing, or where he was in his absence. He wasn't sure how he knew that the crotchety old man who ran the place was named Roger Ruvie and that he liked bugs more than children. He wasn't sure how he knew that the population of Wammy's House was drastically smaller than it had been, and he didn't know what the population was before, or why it was shrinking, or what purpose the orphanage served because _no one_ was getting adopted.

He couldn't even remember his own name.

A cloud blocked out the sun and the world seemed even duller.

He felt a smile twitch onto his lips but it soon faded. Something about smiling felt wrong, like he was missing something and had no business smiling until he got that something back. Sighing, he brought one of his legs to his chest and rested his head on his knee.

He highly suspected that the something he was missing was in fact a someone. But he couldn't remember that either. Was it a family member? A friend? A lover? Had he loved someone? Did they love him back? What happened to them? Were they far away? Maybe if he found them, he would remember things again. He might even be able to smile.

"Whoever you are," he whispered into the wind, "I miss you."

* * *

The room was small, there was only a cot and a boarded window. He didn't want to open the door. He'd tested the knob earlier, it turned easily so he could walk out if he wanted to. But he didn't. He didn't know what was out there, on the other side of the door. There were often noises, he assumed they occurred when it was night. That was only a guess, there was no way to see any passage of time in the room.

The noises were reminiscent of screams, screams that sounded incredibly familiar, though he couldn't place them. They shouted at him, yelling horrible things. There was one voice in particular, it shouted the loudest. It was a woman, he didn't know who she was, only that her voice was grating and she was absolutely disgusted with him and his body and he had no idea why. He didn't even know what he looked like. The woman would yell, her voice breaking through the walls with ease and he would try to cover his ears but that never helped.

There was a sneering monotonous voice that told him he'd never catch up. There was a man with a heavy accent that told him he should just die already. There was the scoff and irritated sigh of an old man and the harsh whispers of children.

He'd not moved from his corner since he woke up in the room. He had to be careful when he shifted around though, especially when he curled up. One half of his body burned every time it touched something. The physical pain, combined with the emotional terrorism from the voices, made him stay put and cry until his throat was raw.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the room, but it was a long time later that a small whisper resonated in his mind.

_I miss you_

He blinked. That wasn't usual. It was not the children, or the woman, or either of the men. Who was it? He tried listening closely but the voice didn't sound again and the screams surged to fill the empty space.

_Don't listen to the words, Mihi, they'll only bring insanity, you have to be strong. For me, okay?_

That one was different to, it was barely audible over the yelling. It was a girl, she sounded tired. She called him Mihi, was that his name? It felt right, but also not at the same time. He focused on that voice and forced out the others for as long as he could.

_I want you to find something here, buy two of them, and when you grow up, if you find someone to love and who loves you after knowing everything, give it to them_

An image of two black rings flashed behind his eyes and he latched onto the memory. It was a jewelry store. There was an older blond girl standing beside him, she was too thin. But, despite her hollow cheeks and dull eyes, he thought she was incredibly beautiful. Her hand was on his shoulder, but it was more like she was using him to keep herself upright as opposed to simply resting it there.

Sparing a moment to open his eyes, he noted the presence of a black ring on his pinkie finger.

Had it always been there?

* * *

He searched for a long time for the something, someone, that was keeping him from smiling.

It was hard, especially since he wasn't sure what it was that he was looking for. He'd found a room inside the building that held a vague sense of familiarity, besides that, no one ever went inside. There were two beds, books and folders littered the floor and desktops. There was a fine layer of dust over everything, but it didn't seem like it had been there for long. Which meant that somebody occasionally came to dust. If they did, then they took great care not to move anything out of place. There were haphazard stacks of video games around an outdated system, and loose papers taped to the bookshelf or carelessly tacked to the wall. The closet and dresser were almost completely empty but the clothes still inside were meant for younger children.

He sat on one of the beds and closed his eyes. There had to be something in the room that would help him remember.

Rolling onto his side, he took a few minutes to breathe deeply, waiting until the moment felt right to open his eyes.

A smiling boy flashed in his mind. The boy was blond, and wore black pajamas. The smile on his face was dull and his eyes were tired, but he was beautiful. The boy disappeared before he got his bearings and the image left him feeling confused.

Was that who he was missing? Was that boy the reason he couldn't smile anymore?

He had to be.

A tingly feeling spread around his hand and he looked down. Confused, he found a black band on his ring finger. He slid it off, pleased to find that it fit perfectly, and began to inspect it.

There was an engraving on the inside. Squinting through the tinted world, he read a single word.

_Infinity_

He put the ring back on, taking a moment to spin it around his finger. A warm feeling settled in his stomach and he managed a minuscule grin without feeling guilty.

It was enough, feeling like he had a purpose. Knowing he'd eventually smile for real, it was definitely enough.

* * *

The 'I miss you' he'd heard kept resonating. The longer he dwelled on it, the more pieces he remembered.

A boy with red hair and green eyes. That was the most prominent bit. The boy wore goggles around his neck and his grin made him want to smile. The boy had bags under his eyes and his whole body oozed with emotional exhaustion, but he was beautiful.

The boy was definitely a part of something, something big that he couldn't remember. Each scene he saw, the boy had his arms out, as if beckoning. But beckoning him where? Outside the room? It was scary out there, why would he want to leave? Leaving would only give substance to the voices that he heard every night. He had no desire to know what they looked like.

But the voice that belonged to the boy was nice. It was kind and warm and it made him feel a little less bad. The voice sometimes spoke up at other times to, barely an audible whisper. It said things like 'goodnight' and 'good morning', those were normal. But sometimes it said weird things like 'you should wear my clothes more often' or 'wake me up when we get to Kansas'. He wasn't really sure what clothes he was wearing, or what Kansas was, but the voice said them like he should know what they were.

What the voice, the boy, said to him the most was, 'come on'.

_Come on, let's go to bed_

_Come on, we should go out_

_Come on_

Each instance he would see the boy smile, his hands extended as if to help him up. He wanted to. He wanted to go with the boy who had such a kind voice. But he couldn't move from the corner. Each time he tried, the woman would scream and the girl would cry. No matter how much he wanted to go with the boy, the voice was only a whisper.

He held the image of the boy tight, he didn't want to forget it. It was the only colorful thing in his monochrome world that was slowly beginning to suffocate him.

Eventually, the boy's voice grew louder, louder even then the woman's hateful screaming. The voice echoed around his head and filled up the room. It was all around him and it said things he'd never heard before. That he was wanted, and important, that he was loved and that he was safe.

And some how, it convinced him to throw open the door and march out. It got him to walk blindly along a road turned blurry from the rain.

He walked along the road for a long time. He wasn't sure just how long, only that he was beginning to feel tired. A wrought iron gate soon came into view and he stopped a moment, peering out from beneath his hood. A placard told him that the building in the short distance was called Wammy's House. He stretched out his fingers to touch the cold metal, pushing open the gate.

He saw the boy looking at him from behind a couch.

He continued to walk, head bowed so the rain wouldn't touch him, until he bumped into something warm and solid. Looking up, he saw green eyes behind orange goggles and his hands shot out to grab the young man's shoulders as he fell back.

Days spent curled up in each other on a bed that was barely big enough for the both of them. Nights spent tugging lightly on a handcuff, wondering if it could be broken. A classroom full of too smart kids with too many problems. An office with dusty books that smelled heavily of perfume and cough drops. The view of bright stars against the dark sky from the rooftop. A warehouse that went up in flames. The almost annoying tones from video games in the middle of the night when everything else was quiet. A strained smile on thin lips. Exhausted green eyes staring hard at dull blue ones. A shaking hand stroking the back of a figure that was hunched over. Snowy sidewalks on a sleepy street on the weekend outside of a small shop. the feel of wind whipping through hair as a red Camaro raced down an empty highway. An embrace that wasn't supposed to last as long as it did. Hands clutched together, squeezing tight before they let go. A single tear slipping down a cheek.

The feeling of bullets tearing into skin and muscle and bone. A tremor that shook a body as it fell to the ground. A shuddering breath that signified the end of a life. A cigarette extinguished in blood.

Pain that radiated from the heart. A body that seized up on itself before slumping over the wheel of a stolen truck. Fingers scrambling for a rosary, to pray or to say sorry. Eyes closing slowly as a young man died.

Mello looked into those green eyes and gripped Matt's lapel, pulling him closer.

He remembered now, all of it. Every waking moment of his life, but especially those parts where Matt was involved. He remembered the look on Matt's face that night in the bathroom, when he was so calm, so calm for someone who'd walked in on something like that. He remembered Matt's face when he presented him with a fixed rosary, and when they climbed on the roof and he told Mello he loved him. When they kissed on New Year's. Mello felt tears run down his face but he didn't care, he buried his face in Matt's chest and began to sob.

Matt wrapped his arms around Mello's shaking body, bowing his head a little. The tinted film was gone, and everything was as it was supposed to be. His memories surged back to him. He remembered all of the time he spent worrying about whether Mello had eaten or not. He remembered spending too much time crying over Mello's note. Pulling him from the fire, hugging him and feeling him hug back, kissing him again and again, holding him at night. He remembered laying under his bed to make Mello a new rosary, and the first time Mello admitted to loving him back. He remembered all of it now that he had Mello back.

He could smile, since Mello was back in his arms. And it felt so good to smile, it felt better.

"I'm sorry," Mello's words were mumbled into Matt's vest, but he heard them all the same.

"I know, I know, Mells," Matt whispered, holding him tighter.

"I heard you, your voice, you saved me. Again."

Matt pulled back enough so he could see Mello's face and he took a moment to wipe away the tears that continued to fall down the other's cheeks. Leaning forward, he kissed Mello for what felt like the first time in forever. He felt Mello smiling against his lips and he moved back. Placing one last kiss on Mello's forehead, he pulled him back into a tight hug.

"I'll always save you, so don't worry about it."

Mello wrapped his arms around his waist, and the two were content to hold each in silence for a few minutes, neither noticing that it was still raining.

"I love you, Mail."

"And I love you, Mihael."


End file.
